Chicken and the Menehune
by LadyMoonSilver
Summary: Big Chicken is back and more evil than ever. Can he be stopped before he does the unthinkable? Adult situations. Read and Review please.
1. Chapter 1

Once again, I have moved everything to the mid-90's, simply because I can.

Time to call upon the services of some old friends. I don't own the play or the players, I just bring them out and play with them when I get bored.

Original characters are all mine. I have lots of invisible friends.

This one's got everything: murder, mayhem, chick flicks, psychotic villains and knights in slightly tarnished armor.

If you are offended by firearms, go read another story. This one has guns.

Had to throw in some gratuitous sex scenes. They're not that graphic. Put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

Some harsh language. Some violence. You can't have crime drama without either.

Quoting my hero, Steven Moffatt: Even the slash fiction, that's a great way to learn to work. No one really does three-act structure, but just trying to put words that make somebody else turned on, that's going to teach you more about writing than any writing college you can go to."

Now that I think I've got the basics down, it's time to move on.

Read, review, enjoy.

Blessed Be!

* * *

O-O-O-O-O

Newspapers were hard to come by in the maximum security wing of Oahu State Prison. Sure, the papers eventually made it down to the small room that served as both library and chapel, but that was only after the guards and everyone else had read them. That's why the paper currently being held in the greasy mitts of Charles Arthur Rhodes was over a month old and nearly read to tatters.

Rhodes glared at the color photo featured on the Honolulu Courier's society pages. There was a full page spread about some sort of reception at the Capital Building, hosted by the governor and his wife. There were pictures of Hawaii's elite along with their significant others, all dressed to the nines in black tie and designer dresses, the women dripping with expensive jewels, all of them looking at ease and excessively pleased with themselves.

That's why the one picture caught his eye. The man was tall and in very good shape for his age. He was wearing a tux and had the aura of a man who was comfortable in his own skin and walked through life like a tiger through the jungle; confident, aware, and dangerous. He glared at the photo, consigning the subject to the depths of hell. What irked him the most, and there were a lot of things about that photo that did, was the way the tall man was looking at the small women he was escorting.

In the photograph she appeared to be so small she didn't even come up to the shoulder of the tall man. She had silver hair woven into a coronet of French braids, wire framed glasses, and was wearing an Army Mess Blue uniform, complete with all the medals, ribbons, badges, and patches that went with it. There were sergeants chevron's on her sleeves and a combat patch on her right shoulder, as well as a name tag he couldn't read. She was pretty in a professional sort of way, and was curved in all the right places. The caption under the photo wasn't much help, referring to her only as a 'mysterious WAC." Whoever she was, it was obvious she wasn't use to being in the limelight. She held the arm of the tall man in the tux like he was an anchor in a storm.

He asked the guard for the blunt nosed school scissors, the only scissors allowed in the maximum security wing, and used them to cut out the picture. That same afternoon he put in a request to see his minister.

* * *

Two days later he was waiting in the visitors area when the Right Reverend Simon Leeds made his appearance. Leeds wasn't his real name. He had worn many names and identities over the years, and this one suited his current needs. He was a con man who'd found a new game and whole new flock ready to be fleeced.

Leeds neither liked nor trusted the fat man sitting across from him, but religion, like politics, often made for some very strange bedfellows.

After a brief prayer, the two men got down to business. Rhodes passed the photograph across the table to Leeds.

"Do you know who this is?" he asked.

"No," Leeds said. "Should I?"

"You should. You must. You need to remember this man. This is the enemy. This is the man who sent me here to rot in jail while he goes dancing at the governor's. This is McGarrett. He runs Five-O. He doesn't make deals. You can't bribe him, and so far, no one's managed to kill him. He's got more lives than a cat."

"What's that got to do with us? We're a church group. Sanctioned by none other than Sheriff Augustus Murphy himself. He shouldn't be a problem."

"You haven't been on this Rock long enough. You don't know McGarrett. Unlike our friend the sheriff, he's smart and so are the cops working for him. He only hires the best. I know him all too well. He listens to only God and the Governor, and only when they agree with him. Once you're in his sights, there's no stopping him. He doesn't quit. Only this time, he's going to, because I'm going to have insurance." Rhodes tapped the woman in the photograph. "See the way he's looking at her? You know what that means? It means Mr. Tough Cop has a soft spot. A weakness, if you will. Find out who she is and where she lives. I want to know everything there is to know about her. Mysterious WAC's should be easy to track down. Start at Fort Shafter and Scoffield Barracks."

"What'll I do with the info when I get it? You want something to happen to her? If you do, I don't want to know about it."

"Why, no, Reverend Leeds, that would be most un-Christian like. We must pray for that little lady. She has to stay healthy. For now. I have plans for her, oh yes indeed. Wonderful plans. I suspect that when you bring in the new literature I requested for our Bible study group next month, you'll have the very thing I need included."

Leeds wasn't stupid. He knew Rhodes had just given him a deadline. "Quick is going to be expensive."

"I don't care. Get someone on it. That son of a bitch owes me. You will find out who she is, where she lives, and how to find her if you know what's good for you. You got it?"

"Loud and clear."

* * *

A month later he had his answer. He knew her name, where she worked, what kind of car she drove, and who her best friend was.

He knew where she lived. More importantly, he knew who she lived with.

That angered him even more.

This time McGarrett would pay, and pay dearly. Or his name wasn't Big Chicken.


	2. Chapter 2

McGarrett paced the floor of the DA's office like a caged tiger. With Danny out of town, it had been a long and grueling week and the recent ruling by the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals wasn't making it any better. His usual Friday afternoon meeting with the district attorney was turning out to be anything but routine. "Dammit, John," he said, "the court doesn't say we have to turn them loose, just give them a parole hearing."

Manicote was as unhappy with the ruling that gutted Hawaii's Habitual Offender's Law as McGarrett was. The convicts listed on the lawsuit filed with the federal court of appeals on behalf of all inmates currently serving time under the law had read like a who's who in crime. They were pimps, panderer's, drug dealers, thieves, rapists, and extortionists who had left a trail of ruined lives and destruction in their wake. Most of them had been convicted on fairly minor charges, but the three strikes law had locked them away for the rest of their lives as habitual offenders. Or at least that was the original intent, and while the Court hadn't vacated any of the sentences, it did require that all prisoner's were now eligible for parole hearings.

"Not only do they get hearings, the court lit a fire under the parole board. The first hearing is scheduled for Wednesday. First up is none other than your old buddy, Charles Arthur Rhodes."

"Rhodes?" Steve asked. He dropped into a chair as memory made the connection. "Big Chicken himself. He's one of the reasons we have prisons." The headache that had started earlier that morning was reaching an all new level. Maybe it was time to listen to Doc and start taking those pills.

"You okay?" Manicote asked, looking concerned.

"Just a headache, is all," he said. "How did Big Chicken convince the warden to send him to the parole board?"

"The warden didn't have a choice. The hearings are mandated by the ruling. Wait until you hear the rest of the story, the part that's really going to give you a headache. According to the warden's report, Chick's found God and a church group to sponsor him if he gets out. He's been a model prisoner for the last ten years. He's even managed to get himself ordained as a minister."

"Ever notice how creeps like Chicken and his cronies always manage to find both God and Jesus in their cells after lifetime of ignoring every church on this Rock before they got sent up? Who did he con into ordaining him?"

"A group called the United Church of the Living Truth ran by the Right Reverend Simon Leeds."

"Never heard of them," McGarrett said, disgusted with the idea of a Reverend Chicken.

"That's why I want Five-O on it. Chicken's up to something and I intend to find out what it is. We both know that Rhodes has a hand in every illegal racket at the prison, and the one's he's not running he's getting kickbacks from. That money has to go somewhere. I think he's using the church group as a front to launder all that illegal cash."

Sitting still was not one of McGarrett's strong points. He stood up and continued pacing. "I thought we'd seen the last of that creep when the doors slammed shut on the new maximum security wing. I thought he was locked up for good. It looks like I will be attending a parole hearing next week."

"You'll be seeing him sooner than that. Wait until you hear the rest. He wants a meeting with you. Says he wants to make amends."

"For what? Threatening to kill me? If he wants to start making amends he needs to start with all the kids whose lives were ruined when he started supplying them with dope. Or maybe to all those young girls he turned into prostitutes to support their drug habits. He'd have to be on his knees praying non stop for the next century to make amends for all the harm he's done. I'm not buying his born again act."

"Steve," Manicote said, "I'd consider it a personal favor if you did meet with him. He's up to something. What I don't know, but I'm going to find out. There's something fishy about Chicken and his sudden aspirations toward holiness."

"Set it up. When does he want to meet?" McGarrett asked, less than enthusiastic about the prospect. He and Big Chicken had a violent and unpleasant history.

"Monday morning at nine. See if you can get someone inside the church. Find out who the members are and how to find them should it become necessary and hang the overtime. Find me something to keep Chicken right where he is. Failing that, get me enough evidence to get a wire tap on every phone they've got and an excuse to subpoena their books." He handed Steve a folder with what little information he had on the United Church of the Living Truth. "This group came out of nowhere and suddenly they're the go to organization for ex-cons. Their mission statement says their goal is to give newly released prisoner's a 'chance to re-establish a productive life through positive church and community involvement.'"

"Why does that sound like an idea hatched by Sheriff Murphy and his cadre of out of work scriptwriters?"

"Because it is. Murphy is one of their political sponsors. Claims it will cut the crime rate in half and make the streets safer."

McGarrett silently cursed Murphy and all actors turned politicians. "If he'd bother to read any of the reports from my office he'd know the crime rate is already down. I suppose that this means our esteemed sheriff is to be kept in the dark about Five-O involvement?"

"You got it. I don't know the extent of Murphy's involvement with this group. Find out. See if he's received any campaign contributions from them."

"Murphy's never had to deal with Chicken. You and I have and we know what he's capable of. It's time for Big Chicken to find out there are some things he can't control. I want him strip searched and shackled. The last time I saw him he was pointing a gun at my head."

"Was that before or after you broke his jaw?"

"Before. While we're meeting, toss his cell. He'll be smart enough not to have anything incriminating in there. Do it anyway."

"Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're exhausted. If you don't get some rest soon Maggie is going to have us all on report. How is she? I was so aggravated by Rose Bird and her gang of four that I forgot to ask."

For the first time that afternoon, McGarrett smiled. "She said yes."

"Yes to what? Wait a minute! She's going to marry you? Congratulations! You finally found someone who'll put up with you. When's the big day?"

"We haven't set a date yet. I think she wants to wait until after she retires from the Army."

"Just keep me posted. That is good news. The best I've heard all day."

Steve shook hands with Manicote, stashed the folders in his briefcase, and went back to his office at Iolani Palace, happy in spite of the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals and a splitting headache.

* * *

Maggie was just putting the finishing touches on what had became a continuing column on military women. The column had started out as a week long piece highlighting the contributions by women to the modern military that had proved so popular it was now a weekly feature. As she typed she caught a glimpse of the diamonds sparkling on her left hand and hoped that the column would be reassigned to another staffer after she retired.

In the week since she'd said yes to Steve's proposal, she'd turned down a promotion to Master Sergeant and had started the process of filing all the paperwork necessary for retirement from the Army. She was still having trouble coming to grips with the idea that nearly twenty years had passed since she'd stood in the recruiting station in New Orleans being sworn in as a clueless buck private. Today was one of those days when she was wondering just what would have happened if she'd stayed on Grande Isle, and that was causing her imagination to draw a total blank. _Nope, wouldn't have ever happened,_ she thought _. No regrets here. Could have saved a lot of pain and heartache, but it was worth it. He's more than worth it._ Her bout of nostalgia was interrupted when Lu knocked briefly and came in, dropping the updated duty roster on her desk.

"Hope you didn't have plans for this weekend," Lu said, collapsing into a chair, "Flores's wife went into labor. He'll be a daddy by morning. I had to shuffle the list around to make this work. You've got duty tomorrow."

"So what else is new? No plans, really. All we had on the agenda was rearranging the garage so that my stuff could fit until I decide what to do with it." Maggie's furniture and personal property had been in storage since she was re-assigned from Europe after the Gulf War. After a journey across two oceans the stuff was to be delivered Monday morning. She was taking the day off to be at the house when the movers arrived.

"Another exciting weekend shot to hell," Lu said, smiling.

"What about you? You got anything planned?"

"Not yet. Probably go out to dinner or something. I swear if that man doesn't make a move soon, I'm going to do it for him." Lu and Duke had been dating for over three months, and, according to Lu, that was all they were doing. She was starting to get frustrated.

"Lu, he's old fashioned. When he does make a move, you'll know he's serious."

"Well, he'd better hurry up. That man has no idea how hot he is. You know, I think what attracts me the most is that he's so damned quiet. After all the noise and commotion we have to put up with from the Army, he's soothing to be around. It's kinda nice to be with someone who doesn't expect me to the tough chick in uniform all the time. Crazy, right?"

"No, Lu, not crazy at all," Maggie said, smiling at her friend. "Are you telling me Ms Find 'em, Fool 'em, and Forget 'em is falling for a man?"

"Yeah, like I said, crazy. And at my age. You'd think I'd know better by now."

"You know, he could be the one. Sophie graduates from college in two years and there are worse places to retire to than Hawaii. You could hang up the uniform at twenty-five instead of thirty

"This coming from someone who is well and truly spoken for. I'll never get that lucky." Lu said, sighing. "Speaking of which, have you set a date yet?"

"Not yet. Want to go dress shopping with me next weekend? I can't decide if I want to buy the dress or make it. We need to find you a dress, too, since you're going to be my maid of honor."

"You got a deal as long as the dress doesn't have sequins, tulle, or ruffles." Lu paused for a minute, thinking. She had been the only attendant at Maggie's wedding to Michael Alden years earlier. "You really love this guy, don't you?" Lu asked, the concern evident in her voice.

"Yes, I love him. I know it sounds strange but it's like I've known him forever and all we had to do was find each other again."

Lu laughed. "If I hear the word soulmate coming out of your mouth, I swear I'll have you committed to the mental ward at Tripler."

"My opinion on that is the same as yours. Every time I hear the word 'soulmate' all I can think of is somebody's having some really good sex." Maggie said, grinning. She'd heard that word from so many young soldiers she felt as if she could write a book on the advisability of running away from anyone uttering the word soulmate. Maggie saw the beginning of another of Lu's world championship smirks. "Don't give me that look! I have known you so long I can tell what you're thinking before you think it. If you must know, it's exceptionally good sex."

"Really good sex is what I'd love to get this weekend. You know the funny part? He could be the worse lay in history and I really wouldn't care as long as it was with him. Geeze, I'm getting philosophical in my old age and I've still got a pile of paperwork waiting on my desk that needs to get done before I can get out of here. No wonder Hardin was such an ass, the paperwork drove him to it." She got up, stretching to her full height as she did. "Don't forget, duty tomorrow." She said as she left the office.

Lu still wasn't use to the sign on the door that read First Sergeant Yablanski. What she was getting use to, however, was the bigger office and the comfortable executive's chair that went with it. She had just sat down when the cell phone she had stashed in the desk drawer started ringing. She frowned at the offending instrument, debating on whether she should answer when Duke's number popped up on the caller ID screen.

"Hello, Susan," he said when she answered. "I hope you haven't made plans for tonight because my kids want to meet you. Dinner at my house at seven."

Lu was momentarily speechless. This was not what she had expected. "Sounds good," she said, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt. "Seven, you said. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Just your beautiful self, magic lady," he had been calling her that since the night they met when he swore that magic had been in the air. "My daughter is cooking. I'm not sure what, but I promise it will be good."

"I'll be there. And Duke," she said.

"Yes, Susan?"

"Thank you."

"I'll see you at seven." He hung up the phone, counting down the minutes until he would see her.

Lu got back to the mounds of paperwork that went with the diamond in the center of her stripes. Duke was the first non-military man she had dated since the mid eighties. After her second divorce she'd decided no more men from the ranks. That hadn't worked out at all, since there was very little she could actually talk about with a civilian without them thinking she was totally bonkers. Duke was different. He was quiet, polite, and easy to be with. What impressed her most about him was he didn't seem like he was trying to impress her at all. He had shared a few of the more amusing stories about being an HPD officer, but most of those were about other people. He'd told her about his late wife, about his kids, and about Hawaiian culture and traditions. He had shown her secluded parts of the Island that were so far off the beaten path that few tourists ever got to see them. What he didn't do was talk about Duke Lukela, and in a world where she had to deal with male braggadocio on an hourly basis, that was as refreshing as the trade winds that blew across the islands.

Then there was the night two weeks earlier when he'd shown up at the BEQ unannounced, with cut knuckles, a bruise on his cheek, and a bandage on his neck that she later learned was from a knife wound that had taken eighteen stitches to close. He said he had been driving by and thought of her and wanted to know if she'd like to go to the beach. It was after ten, but she she'd grabbed a blanket from the closet and they had driven down to a deserted stretch of beach near Diamondhead. He had spread the blanket on the sand just above the water line. She could tell something was wrong. His usually calm demeanor seemed to be shattered. He hadn't said anything; he'd just held her until he'd stopped shaking. The next day the lead story on the morning news was a report of a robbery gone bad where the suspect had held a knife at the throat of a teenage girl until he was subdued by a HPD patrol officer who had been injured disarming the suspect and had been treated and released by Queens hospital.

That was the night she fallen totally and helplessly in love with the silver haired Hawaiian police sergeant with eyes as dark as melted chocolate.

Now he wanted her to meet his kids. Maybe he was getting serious. Maybe Maggie was right and he was the one. She looked up at the clock on the wall, willing the hours to pass quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

"Anything new turn up while I was out?"McGarrett asked when he returned to the office, hoping for world peace with sprinkling of puppies and kittens and an order of unicorns on the side.

Jenny handed him a bag from the pharmacy. "Just this."

He glared at the bag. "Get that damned quack on the phone for me. NOW!" he said, stalking off to his office. Jenny buzzed through a few minutes later to let him know Doc Bergman was on line one.

"That didn't take long," Bergman groused.

"I don't need those damned pills."

"Yes, you do," Bergman said calmly. " Your blood pressure is too high. I bet you've got a headache right now."

"I've never had a problem with blood pressure before." Steve said, annoyed that Bergman knew he had a headache.

"You've never been fifty-three before either. Your bp's been borderline for years, and now that you're getting older, it's getting harder to control. Since you don't have a medical history for either of your parents, I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest that you're probably genetically predisposed to hypertension. The last thing I want to do is have to explain to that little Army sergeant why you popped off from a stroke that could have been prevented. _Take the damned pills!"_ Bergman hung up the phone.

Steve ripped the narrow white bag open and dumped the contents on his desk. Two bottles of the same beige capsules; the label on one bottle read 'home', the other 'office.' He stored the bottle marked office in a desk drawer, dropped the one labeled home in his shirt pocket, dry swallowed a couple of aspirins and buzzed Jenny. "Tell Kono and Duke Lukela I need them in about half an hour, please."

"Will do, boss. Anything else." she asked.

"You could be a love and make some fresh coffee." he said.

"Coming right up," she said. She would be happy when Danny made it back from DC. She knew that he'd needed to see that redheaded sailor from Alabama and had spent a week finding an excuse to send him there. That meant the rest of the crew had to pick up the slack left by his absence. No one minded the extra work, but after a long week, they were also ready for some down time.

Duke and Kono arrived at the same time, Duke looking preoccupied. Duke was currently seeing Maggie's friend Lu, the first women he'd dated since his wife passed away. The pair were polar opposites in temperament yet it was clear to anyone who bothered to look that they were crazy about each other. Chin Ho, after a day in court testifying on a drug case, made it back just in time to join in.

McGarrett handed around copies of the file on the United Church of the Living Truth that the DA had given him. "Well, gentleman," he said. "Ever hear of this bunch before?"

"All I know is they've got a mission down on Hotel Street, Steve," Duke said. "So far there haven't been any complaints from the public. Any idea what denomination sponsors them?"

"That's what I'm hoping you will be able to tell me. With luck it won't be one of those ordain you over the internet scam operations, although if it is, it'll make it that much easier to shut down."

"Gotta be Protestants of some sort," said Chin, a devout Catholic. "If it were RC I'd have heard of them by now."

Steve nodded. He'd suspected as much. "Kono, get your informants to start beating the bushes for any information on the congregation you can come up with. They're suppose to be working with newly released cons. Chin, contact the parole office and see who's become a regular churchgoer during their incarceration. Get a background check on the group leader, the Right Reverend Simon Leeds. Find out if he's got a record. When Danno gets back Monday I'm sending him down to the computer lab to see what the techies can turn up. Let's see if he learned anything new this week."

"Done, boss. What's all this about anyway?"

"Big Chicken wants out of the coop, Brudah."

"Does this have anything to do with the latest from the Court of Appeals?" Duke asked. He was all too familiar with the lawsuit. He'd sent nearly as many of the plaintiffs to prison as McGarrett had.

"Unfortunately, yes. He's got a parole hearing Wednesday, along with about a dozen more of his partners in crime, including Frank Collins. We need to find a way to keep them locked up.

Kono and Chin hit the streets, leaving a thoughtful Duke behind. He looked up from the folder. "I thought the ruling only applied to non-violent offenders. Collins is a dangerous psychopath and he still got this church to sponsor him for release? There's something about this whole organization that doesn't ring true. There's a saying on the streets, the more high sounding the church name, the more they're trying to hide. Want me to get an informant on the inside?"

"For Sunday's service if you can. Find out who the regular rank and file churchgoer's are. See if you can separate the saints from the sinners."

"Easier said than done. I hear Chicken's some sort of minister now."

Steve dropped his head in his hands. "Ever have one of those days when you think the whole world's gone crazy?"

Duke smiled a bit. "All the time, Steve. It's not all bad. I understand congratulations are in order. Susan told me the good news."

To Steve and everyone else who knew her, she was Lu. Duke was the only person he knew who called First Sergeant Yablanski by her given name without suffering the consequences. "Thank you. Look, other than getting an informant in there for the Sunday service, there's nothing on that list that won't wait until Monday if you have plans for this weekend."

Steve noticed a slight flush as rising on Duke's face. "My kids are meeting Susan tonight. My daughter's making dinner and I'm not sure what Eddie's got planned."

"Everything will be fine," Steve said, wishing he could be a fly on the wall for that meeting. Lu Yablanski had been in the Army for twenty-three years and was a Desert Storm veteran. She was as tough as nails and could detect bullshit from across a crowded room in dim lighting. She'd taken one look at Duke Lukela and had fallen in lust, which was being rapidly replaced by love. Duke just knew that there was something about the tall blonde from Indiana that had grabbed his attention and refused to let go. For the first time since his wife died he was finding that he was genuinely happy. His kids had noticed and insisted that they meet the woman responsible.

Duke nodded. Suddenly it seemed that everyone he knew were seeing military women. Colonel Dale had remarked more than once that he was running a HPD substation instead of a newspaper. There was some truth to the statement. It had all started when Steve had met that little army sergeant and had escalated rapidly.

"I hope they like her. She makes my world a better place."

"Good luck, Brudah." Steve said. If Lu made Duke half as happy as Maggie made him, he was going to be one lucky Hawaiian. "Seriously, though, if Collins gets out, you're going to need to watch your back."

"Back, front, and sides. He still blames me for sending him up. Routine traffic stop and he comes out swinging a cane knife." Duke had put four bullets from his service revolver into Collins before he dropped the knife. "I'll have an informant in for Sunday. I'd like to go myself, except someone would probably recognize me and put the whole congregation on guard. I'd like to see first hand what's going on in there, get the lay of the land."

"I'll settle for an informant wearing a wire. Fix that with Manicote, will you? He's suspecting this group is front for laundering money from the prison rackets. If we shut them down, then the rest of that stinking cesspool falls in like a house of cards."

"Hopefully on Big Chicken's head, with Collins standing next to him. He's caused as much misery in prison as he has out. The only difference is he's got a smaller target audience. If we can get anything federal to stick, he's off to the mainland and out of our hair for good. I've heard there's a new supermax opening in Colorado where he'll fit right in."

"I'd love to reserve a cell just for Chicken." McGarrett closed his eyes. The bright afternoon sunshine was making his head hurt worse.

"You okay there, Steve?" Duke asked.

"Yeah, just tired. I think I'm going to head home early tonight. See if my fiance still loves me." He liked calling her that.

"Good idea. I'll send Robbie Compton in. He needs some undercover experience. He can take his girlfriend with him to keep him out of trouble. I'll get back with you as soon as I have the warrants. We can have them meet us in the lab early Sunday morning so Che can get them wired up." He left McGarrett's office for the short walk to the DA's. It was a beautiful afternoon. The sun was shining, birds were singing in the trees, along the beach the tide was coming in, and in a few hours Susan would be at his house for dinner. His son lived in the dorm at the university where he was a criminal justice major on an ROTC scholarship and his daughter Lillie had informed him she would be going to her friend Monica's house after dinner and would be there the rest of the weekend. He would have the house to himself, and Susan would be there with him. He was hoping she'd stay for the night.

* * *

Maggie had made it home first. Unless she had duty, she usually did. He was counting the days until she would be home every night, waiting for him. He knew that sort of thinking was archaic and was suppose to have gone out of style about a hundred years earlier. He didn't care. After years of coming home to an empty house the idea of having her waiting there for him made him inexplicably happy. Maggie's sister had jokingly called him an old fuddy duddy. His sister had accused him of being born a century too late. Maggie had just given him that small Mona Lisa smile and said he was fine, just the way he was and that she wouldn't have him any other way.

She was in the kitchen, wearing soft cotton leggings that clung in all the right places and an oversized silk shirt that was the same shade of green as her eyes. He crossed the room and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tight against his chest, feeling better in spite of the headache that seemed to want to stick around for the weekend. "How's my best girl?" he asked, kissing the top of her head.

"Better now that you're home. Do you realize this is the first time this week you've made it home before midnight?"

"Is it? I hadn't noticed." No sooner had he said it than he knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"Eat your dinner," she said, somewhat testily. She had always known he worked odd hours, except that this week it felt like he was gone all the time. He would come home late at night, shower, get in bed next to her, and be asleep in minutes.

A stray lock of silver hair had escaped from the long braid that fell down her back. He tucked it behind an ear, bending to kiss her neck as he did. "Let me get out of this jacket and tie. I'll be right back." He gave her a soft pat on the fanny.

Maggie finished setting the table and putting the food out. She poured two glasses of iced tea adding lemon to hers. He came back a few minutes later in shirtsleeves. He'd even taken off the shoulder holster. She gave him a slight smile. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked. There were dark circles under his eyes and thin red lines traced across the whites. "Doc called to remind me to remind you that you need to start taking the blood pressure medicine tonight."

He took the bottle out of his shirt pocket. "You mean these? I already told Doc I don't need them."

"Yes, you do," she said. "Doc has tried everything else he can think of to get your blood pressure down and none of it has worked. Take the pills."

He gave her a rueful smile. "This coming from the woman who refuses to take the medication the doctors give her."

She gave him a look of total disbelief. "I can not believe you just said that! I won't take the pain meds unless I have to and I flat out refuse to take the anti depressants because I don't like the way the things make me feel. Nor do I plan on becoming addicted to any of that junk. It's an entirely different kind of medication."

"I'm just need a good nights sleep. It's been a long week, sweetie. I don't need the pills."

She gave him a look that nearly broke his heart. Her eyes darkened, wet with tears. "Fine," she said, "have it your way. You know, I can just about live with the fact that when you walk out that door in the morning you might not walk back through it in the evening. It's a risk that goes with your job. I can understand it but I don't have to like it and I will never get use to it. Only there's not much either of us can do about it. There is something you can do about your blood pressure and if you don't take the pills, you could die from something that is preventable. Except you're too damned stubborn to admit that you need the pills. Has it ever occurred to you that just maybe I don't like burying husbands?" She got up from the table and stormed out of the room.

 _Damn, McGarrett,_ he thought to himself, _you've done it now_. He hadn't intended to upset her. He hadn't known it was possible to love someone as much as he loved her. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to hurt her, and now he had, all because he was to stubborn to admit he needed the medication. He opened the bottle, and shook one of the pale beige capsules out into his hand. He swallowed the pill, washing it down with iced tea. He finished the chicken salad that Maggie had made for dinner, cleared up the dishes, and put the leftovers in the fridge, hopefully giving her time to calm down. He turned out the light and made his way to the bedroom. She was lying in bed, her back to him, reading, or at least pretending to read. He showered, pulled on a pair of pajama pants, and got into bed beside her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I took the pills. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm not use to having someone around who cares for me enough to worry about me."

She turned to him, her face wet with tears. "Baby, please, don't cry." He said, cradling her face in his hands, wiping away the tears with his long fingers. He kissed her softly and slowly until he could feel her heart start to beat faster.

"I can't stay mad at you," she said at last, "even when I should. I can't stand the thought of living without you."

He held her closer, feeling her soft, warm curves pressed against his skin and realizing that the headache that had bothered him all day was gone. Maybe Doc was right after all. "You won't have to. You're stuck with me, my Little _Menehune_. All you have to do is name the date and I'll meet you at the alter."

"You've got yourself a deal, Big Guy. I'll let you know as soon as I've looked at dresses. I'm so short anything I want is going to have to be custom tailored, unless I make the dress myself. Then I still have to shop for fabric."

"You could always wear your Blues," he said, reaching under her pajama top to caress the warm skin underneath. "You look very sexy in those."

"No," she said, "No uniforms." The feel of his hands against her skin was getting distracting. _Two can play at this game_ , she thought as she let her fingers wander through the dark hair on his chest. "I've missed you this week."

"I've missed you, too. It's been a rough couple of weeks and I have a feeling things are about to get worse." He tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer until he could feel her heart beating.

"Anything I need to know about?" she asked, concerned.

"No, baby," he said. The headache was gone and he was feeling much better. "Just going to be more long hours next week. I have to go in for a few hours tomorrow, then I have the rest of the afternoon free. Want to go sailing?" She had grown up on a barrier island off the coast of Louisiana and had been around boats since she was old enough to walk. She loved sailing and being out on the open water as much as he did. The first time he'd taken her sailing he had watched in wonder as she had walked the decks barefoot, long hair flowing around her face, totally in her element on the deck of a boat. He'd dropped anchor at sunset and they had spent the night making love under the stars, falling asleep in each others arms to the rhythm of the sea.

"Can't," she said. "Flores's wife went into labor this afternoon. I've been bumped up on the duty roster. I'll be babysitting the troops again."

"You did file those retirement papers, right?" he asked. There were times when her job had worse hours than his. "I am getting tired of sharing you with the Army."

"Yes, preliminary paperwork has been filed. Quit complaining and keep focused on October of next year. I still can't believe the targeted ETS date is on Halloween."

"No tricks for that one, young lady. I want you home with me."

"How about a treat then?" she said, sitting up to kiss his neck, her warm lips moving downward across his chest. "You just lie there and let me take care of you." She said, nibbling on his nipple. He was too tired to to do more than lie back and enjoy. He was on autopilot as she trailed kisses down his abdomen, sending shivers down his spine. He entwined his fingers in her long silver hair as she took him into her mouth; prisons, parole boards, and criminals forgotten.

* * *

Lu snuggled closer to Duke, her head resting on his shoulder. She felt as if all her bones had melted and turned into liquid fire. He had been so gentle, his touch so tender it felt as if he were worshiping her body with is hands and with his lips. He had been especially gentle when he had touched her breasts, softly kissing the scars from the lumpectomies before taking the nipples into his mouth, teasing them with his tongue until she was ready to scream. He had taken his time, exploring every inch of her body until all her nerve endings were singing. She had lost count of the orgasms she'd already had, and then when he had finally slid inside her, she could have sworn the universe had imploded. When at last he collapsed on top of her, he had whispered her name as his lips softly caressed her ear.

"Susan, my magic lady," he whispered, holding her tight. "I think I've fallen in love with you."

She sighed, holding him even tighter. "I think the feeling is mutual, you've done gone and got me to fall in love with you."

He kissed her again. She felt so good, cuddled against him. It had been a good evening. She had met his kids, and they had taken to her immediately. He was especially happy to see that she was getting along with his daughter. Dinner had been a success, and when the kids had left afterward, they had sat on the couch as anxious a pair of teenagers wondering what to do next.

"Want to go for a walk on the beach?" he'd asked, mentally cursing himself for saying something so stupid. He didn't want to walk on the beach, not tonight anyway. What he really wanted to do was rip off all her clothes and have his way with her right there on the living room floor, which would be rude and probably uncomfortable, especially since there was a very comfortable queen sized bed in his bedroom.

"Duke," she'd said, looking at him with those big blue gray eyes, "Any other time, I'd say that sounds wonderful. Not tonight. Do you understand? Not tonight. There's something else I think both of us would rather be doing than walking on the beach." She reached over and started undoing the buttons of the Aloha shirt he was wearing.

"Susan," he said, tilting her head back to kiss her, "I don't know how I'm suppose to ask."

"Yes," she said.

He looked at her, confused. "Yes, what?"

"Yes to whatever it is you have in mind. Yes to anything you can think of. Mostly yes to going to bed with you, unless you need more clarification."

"I think that about covers it," he said, standing up and pulling her to her feet. "This way, magic lady, I've been wanting to make love to you since the moment I met you."

She let him lead her into the bedroom. One candle burned on the dresser, giving the room a soft golden glow. "Help me with the zipper," she said, turning her back to him. He unzipped her dress, kissing her neck and shoulders as he did. Her dress dropped to the floor, and she kicked it aside. He unhooked her bra and gently slid the straps down over her shoulders. She was built like one of the old style pinup models, with real curves that would have sent a WWII pilot running to the supply room for art supplies. She could have graced any aircraft flying, and thanks to Army physical training, her curves were firm and toned. "You are beautiful, magic lady." he whispered. She turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck, as time melted away.

Now he lay beside her, her head resting on his shoulder, her body warm against his. "Don't even think about going anywhere," he said, kissing the top of her head, burying his face in her soft hair. "God, you feel good."

"I'm not going anywhere, Duke. I'll be here for as long as you want me to be."

"Then you're going to be here a long time," he said, pulling her on top of him and kissing her until the world stopped and she was the only thing that mattered.


	4. Chapter 4

Early Sunday morning found Compton in the forensics lab being wired for sound. Ivory Thompson was up next, making both McGarrett and Duke wonder exactly where Che was planning on putting the microphone. Lu was watching intently.

"Explain to me one more time why Ivory is getting the whole James Bond treatment." Lu said.

"It'll be more believable if we go in as a couple," Robbie Compton said. "See, there are separate Sunday school classes for men and women. This way we cover both classes."

"Just be careful, okay?" Lu wasn't very happy with the arrangement, but Ivory had volunteered to go with Robbie as part of his cover. When she had shown up at the lab with him that morning, curious about the entire procedure, Che had suggested she wear a wire also, giving them both backup for anything Compton might uncover as well as an opportunity to see what was going on with the women in the group.

"She'll be fine, honey," Duke reassured her. "We wouldn't send her in if we thought she would be in any kind of danger."

"There will be a surveillance van parked down the street with two men from the lab as well as two HPD officers," Steve said, hoping none of the backup he had in place would be needed. "and there are two blue and whites on patrol around the church. One word and they roll."

Che finished attaching the wires to Compton. "Okay, Ms Thompson, you're next." Ivory stripped down to her bra, exposing a lot of caramel colored skin and a rose tattoo. Che was having a very hard time deciding where to look, much less where to attach the wire. "Uh, Sgt Yablanski, I'll let you do the honors." He handed Lu the small and extremely sensitive microphone. Lu followed his instructions, clamping the microphone to Ivory's bra strap and taping it securely to her skin.

Che activated the mics and tuned the antenna's to the proper frequency. "Ready to go," he said.

Compton and Ivory put their shirts back on. Compton surrendered his sidearm and police ID to McGarrett. He was going in as what he was, a Gulf War vet who was still a member of the Army Reserve, and Ivory as his active duty girlfriend. They were suppose to attend the Sunday school classes and listen to the sermon and pretend they were interested in attending more services. Ivory, who had grown up in a family who believed in being in church every time the doors opened was instructing Compton in some of the finer points of piety, pointing out that if he wanted to be believable he should be carrying a Bible, preferably the King James Version.

"No one has one of those these days," he said.

"I do," Ivory stated, pulling the battered, dogeared, and bookmarked tome from her bag. Her name was embossed on the front in gold letters.

"Where'd you get that?" Compton asked.

"From Bible School when I was ten. If you learned your verses, you got a Popsicle. Amazing what a kid will do for a Popsicle. Then if you could recite them all at graduation, you got a Bible with your name on it in gold." She gave an elegant shrug that bespoke her Creole heritage. "Always did like sparkly stuff. Guess I'm part magpie." She and Compton were instructed to report to the Five-O offices at Iolani Palace when the church service was over for debriefing, after first making sure they weren't being followed. They were in Ivory's Hyundai Accent with the Ft Shafter parking stickers in an effort to look authentic, especially since Robbie's pick-up had an HPD parking pass stuck on the front windshield.

"She's going to be fine, Susan," Duke said. "All they're doing today is listening."

Lu nodded. "She's a grown woman. I know she's capable and can handle just about anything that comes her way. Doesn't mean I'm not going to worry. I'm her first sergeant and she's still my responsibility."

Duke put his arms around her, holding her tight, oblivious of the raised eyebrows from both Che and Steve. "You continue to amaze me, magic lady. You know she wants to be a cop when she gets out of the army?"

Lu rolled her eyes skyward as she felt herself relaxing against Duke's shoulder. "I'm not surprised. So, you're recruiting from Ft Shafter now? Count me out, thank you. And that goes double for you, Commander." Lu said, glaring at Steve.

"I don't think either HPD or Five-O is ready for you, Sgt Yablanski." he said. "Duke, you have everything under control here. I think I'll take my fiance to brunch as soon as she gets off duty. We'll meet back at my office at one."

"Steve," Lu said. "Look, I'm not sure how to say this. I'm kinda worried about Maggie. The stuff that's being delivered tomorrow, some of it she hasn't seen since before the War. I know cause I'm the one who packed up her quarters in Germany while she was still at Walter Reed. I know there's some stuff in there that's going to upset her. You may want to go home at lunch and check on her." Lu was nervously chewing on her index finger. "And don't tell her I told you. Okay? Tomorrow's going to be a bad day for her."

Neither Steve or Duke had ever seen Lu looking so anxious. Duke tightened his hold on her.

"I'll check on her," Steve said. "First thing tomorrow I have to drive out to Oahu State Prison to meet with a sociopathic homicidal maniac. I'll drop by the house before I go back to the office. You want to tell me what it is that's going to upset her."

"No," Lu said. "That's up to her. Speaking of brunch, Duke, I'm starved. Let's get out of here."

She kissed Steve on the cheek as she left. She'd done her part, the rest was up to him.

* * *

There was a trail. Steve smiled when he saw it. She always left a trail after overnight duty that started by the door where she'd dropped her duty bag. A desert cammo utility cap was on the table by the door, the top dented by her car keys. Next was a desert cammo shirt on the floor by the sofa. A Dooney messenger bag was on the coffee table. He followed the trail into the bedroom. A pair of size three desert combat boots were next to the bed, a pair of beige socks, a tan tee shirt, and a beige sports bra led the way into the bathroom. He could hear the water running in the shower. He picked the scattered clothes up from the floor and dropped them into the laundry hamper by the door.

"Maggie, sweetie," he said, "I'm home." The one time he thought he would surprise her by stepping into the shower unannounced had frightened her so badly he would never do it again. He heard the water go off and held out a soft cotton towel for her as she stepped out of the shower. Her skin was soft and warm from the water and the rose scented soap she used. He wrapped her in the towel, pulling her close.

"How was duty?" he asked.

"Long and mostly boring. At least I didn't have to get anyone out of jail this time. I thought you were going to be at the office most of the day."

"I'm taking a break. I thought maybe you'd want to go get some brunch at Maholo's."

"Only if you help me get this hair combed."

"Anytime, my Little _Menehune._ Where's your comb?"

"On the dresser. I'll be out as soon as I dry off."

He turned down the covers while he was waiting. She came out, wearing a soft pink robe. She sat crossed legged on the bed, unwrapping a towel from her hair and letting the long damp strands of silver hair fall down her back. She loved it when he combed or brushed her hair. He was always gentle, his long fingers working through the tangles until her hair flowed like wet silk.

"I love it when you do that," she said as he gently massaged her neck and shoulders.

"I love doing this," he said, draping her hair over one shoulder, exposing her neck to nibble the soft skin. "Beautiful," he whispered, "so beautiful." He tilted her face up to kiss her. "I missed you last night. This bed felt so empty without you."

"How does it feel now," she asked, leaning back against him.

"Like it's suppose to. I think we may be late for brunch."

"Me, too," she said wrapping her arms around his neck. He untied the sash of her robe, pushing it aside to bare her shoulders and breasts, loving the way they fit so perfectly in the palm of his hand. As his lips moved down her neck, trailing kisses to her breasts, she realized the only thing she was hungry for was him, for the feel of his big hands on her body, for the weight of his body pressing against hers as he moved inside her, for the sound of his heart beating and his breath against her ear as he whispered her name in that deep rough voice that would always remind her of smoky bourbon and black velvet.

"My Little _Menehune,"_ he whispered between kisses and nibbles. She lay back against the pillows, loving the way he touched her, the way his hands felt as they moved across her skin, the way his lips and tongue felt as they explored her body, and, at last, the way her bones seemed to melt and her blood turn to fire as he moved inside her, his lean hard body sending wave after wave of pleasure through hers. She was so in tune with the feel of his body against hers that she could tell that he was responding to the soft warm flesh that surrounded him so completely, her legs wrapped around his, pulling him ever deeper, until she felt him explode inside her, liquid heat pouring into her body as he whispered her name and told her he loved her.

She held him and prayed for a child...

* * *

McGarrett found Kono waiting in the outer office when he got back to Iolani after tucking his very sleepy fiance into bed and kissing her good-bye.

"What have you got?" he asked.

"Some strange stuff, Brudah," Kono said, handing him a file folder. "That United Church of the Living Truth is all over Hotel Street. They got some sort of mission down there. Or at least dat's what they callin' it. Got a lot of traffic in and out. A lot of if from GI's judging by the haircuts. Lot's of _wahine's_ , most of them real young looking."

"You think the mission is a front for prostitution?" Steve asked.

"I'll about bet it is," Kono said.

Duke came in, having dropped Lu off at her car. He hadn't wanted the weekend to end, only she said she had things to do to get ready for the next week. He was missing her already.

McGarrett handed him the folder. "What do you think?"

"That's what I was afraid of. I've had officers making routine checks on this place since it opened. Maybe it's time to send in vice. I suspect most of the girls that frequent the place are underage. Probably runaways. Not so many from the mainland these days, since it's getting harder to get on a plane, but lots from Asia and plenty of local girls."

"Talk to the Chief about that Monday. See what you can come up with."

There came the sounds of an argument from the hall. "NO! Dammit, Ivory, no! Not just no but hell no! Don't even think about it!"

"You are not the boss of me, Mr. Man!" Ivory shouted back. She burst into the office, her face flushed with anger.

"Would either of you mind telling me what's going on?" Duke asked, as calm as ever.

"Sir, we got tape. I even got a couple of pictures with my phone. The lab has already downloaded them to their computer and are promising pictures for tomorrow. There is some major cash going through that church."

"Yeah," Ivory said. "Lots of fat tithing envelopes and collections for everything from community outreach to the building fund. I don't know where all the cash is coming from. The church is located in a dodgy section of town. Half the congregation looks like it doesn't know where their next meal is coming from and the other half looks like they just strolled in from Hotel Street, if you catch my meaning. Robbie's just pissed 'cause I got lucky and he didn't."

"How's that?" McGarrett asked.

"I had the lab techs edit this down for you. Robbie's got the whole thing. This one's mine. I am so going to love being a cop." She handed McGarrett a CD with the date and time burned into the disk.

McGarrett motioned for then to come into his office. Ivory sat cross legged in one of the big leather chairs with Compton standing protectively behind her. Duke and Kono exchanged glances, wondering who needed protecting from whom. McGarret inserted the CD into the player on his desk.

"You can skip through the first forty five minutes of that," Ivory said. "It doesn't get to the good part until after Sunday School, when Sister Roxanne made me an offer."

McGarrett was fast forwarding the CD. "Got a last name for Sister Roxanne."

"If she doesn't," Duke said, "I bet I do. Roxanne Harris. Better known as Roxie Harper, Reggie Holmes, or Ramona Hall, depending on what mood she's in and what name is on the warrant. Tall, what was once referred to as 'packed and stacked', bleached blonde hair, fake tan and double "D" breast implants."

"Yeah, that's her all right. I kept getting the feeling she decided to give God a try when she got to old to be a stripper. Kinda pushy, too, I might add. And doesn't know the Bible for beans. Read the lesson from a prepared script, and not very well either."

"She's also a known associate of Big Chicken from way back." Kono added.

"An associate of who's? What's a Big Chicken?" Ivory asked.

"Someone you do not want to mess with," Duke said. "We thought we'd seen the last of him about twenty years ago. It seems we were wrong."

McGarrett hit the play button.

"What brings you here, hon?" said a brassy voice roughened by too many cigarettes and way too much booze. Ivory identified it as belonging to Sister Roxanne.

"I'm stationed out at Shafter. I'm looking for a new church home. My boyfriend and I have been having some problems and I thought that if we started attending church it would help."

"What kind of problem would that be, hon? You can tell Sister Roxanne. I promise it won't go any further. Minister's privilege."

Ivory appeared to hesitate for a minute, then she gave a little sob. "I'm sorry. It's just that he hasn't been the same since the War. He's changed. I love him so much and all he wants to do is smoke dope and bet on football. We're about broke. He just gets a little check from the reserves and what little I make barely covers rent."

McGarrett, Duke, and Kono were all staring at Ivory. The girl was a natural. Compton didn't look happy at all.

"What does your boyfriend do for the Reserves, hon? I may know someone who can help him find work." You could tell from the tone that Roxie was on a fishing expedition.

"He works in the arms room. That is when he bothers to show up for meetings." That much was true. Compton was an armorer and spent most of his reserve training repairing and maintaining military weapons.

"And what do you do, hon. Pretty girl like you should be working for a general."

"I wish!" Ivory said. "I'm just a clerk typist. The men give me handwritten reports that I have to turn into neatly typed documents. They all need to learn how to type."

"Would you be interested in some part time work? As pretty as you are, you could make more in one weekend than the Army pays you in a month. And your boyfriend don't even have to know. You just drop by the mission on Hotel Street next time you're in the area and we can have a little talk."

"I may just do that. I could certainly use the money."

"Can't we all. Look, the sermon's about to start. You better go find your boyfriend before he starts worrying about you."

McGarrett hit the stop button on the CD player. "Good job, Specialist Thompson. You've been a lot of help."

"When do you want me to go to the mission on Hotel Street?" she asked.

"You are not going near that place and that's final!" said Compton.

"And you think you're going to stop me?" she asked.

"Enough!" Duke said, "I swear you two sound like my kids did when they were about ten. He's right, Ivory. You're not going anywhere near that place."

"Why not? She practically asked me I wanted to be a hooker."

"Because it's too dangerous," McGarrett said. "Ivory, we sent you in to listen, not participate. These people are dangerous. We've been dealing with them and the fallout they leave behind for a long time. They won't hesitate to make you disappear if they think you're from the police."

"But," Ivory started.

"No argument, young lady," said McGarrett. "You got us enough on tape to get vice in the mission. Let the police handle it from now on. You don't go near that church again. I don't trust any of them."

"I sure as hell don't trust Reverend Leeds." Compton put in. "I don't like the way he was looking at Ivory and he spent more time begging the congregation for money than he did preaching."

"Find anything on the Reverend, Kono?" McGarrett asked.

"'Dat's another mystery. So far not a thing. It like he appeared out of thin air one day. All the records we got are the ones from here on the Island. No school records, no credit report, no criminal record. Nothing before he landed here three years ago. And no fingerprints anywhere. Not even with the DMV. If he's got a license, it ain't from Hawaii."

"Looks like Danno's got his work cut out for him next week. What time is he getting in?"

"Plane lands at five," Kono said. "I'm picking him up at the airport."

"It's a long flight from DC. I hope he caught up on his sleep."

There was a choked off laugh from Kono. Danny was in DC attending a conference on cyber crime sponsored by the FBI at Quantico. Everyone knew that he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to see Petty Officer Beverly Patterson, who was attending federal law enforcement classes at the same facility. Danny was so obviously in love with the redheaded sailor from Alabama and missed her so much that Jenny had spent a week searching for an excuse to send him to DC.

"Give him a rundown on what's been happening when you pick him up. That's a wrap for now. I'll go back over the tapes and see if I can find anything interesting."

"Would a fingerprint from Leeds help?" Compton asked.

"Sure, Brudah," said Kono. "If he got prints on file. Where you gone get prints."

Compton carefully removed a flier from his jacket pocket. "How about off this? I asked about phone numbers and web addresses and he gave me this. I just wanted the info, didn't even think about fingerprints until you mentioned it."

McGarrett smiled as Kono bagged the flier for the lab. "Kid, we'll make a cop out of you yet." He took Compton's gun and ID from his briefcase and handed them back to the young police officer.

"Thank you, sir. Come one, Ivory. It's a nice day out. Let's go for a drive on the coast and then we can get dinner afterward." He was trying to make up for what was obviously disappointment at being sidelined from the investigation.

"I suppose," she said. "Look, call me if you need any help. I can do this."

"Ivory," Duke said, "I know you can, but you are not a police officer, and I'm fairly sure there are a lot of people who would have my head on a spike if anything happened to you, starting with Colonel Dale and going downhill from there. It's too risky. Let HPD handle this from here on out." _And I'd really like to keep my girlfriend,_ he thought to himself, liking the way 'girlfriend' sounded.

"You are so taking all the fun out of life. Come on, Robbie. Let's go see what we can get into." She stood up, giving Compton a hug when she did. "I probably shouldn't have yelled at you, or called you a dumb cracker."

"Sweetie, I don't even know what that means. Let's go, baby, I'll buy you a Popsicle." Compton said. They left holding hands.

Ivory was from New Orleans. McGarrett had observed that when she, Maggie, and Beverly started talking, the Southern came out and it was like listening to an entirely new dialect.

"What do you think," McGarrett asked after they had left.

"That Compton had better watch his step around that one."

McGarrett laughed. "About the case, Duke. What's your take on all this?"

"That Big Chicken is in this up to his ears. He and Roxie Harris go back a long way. She's been off the radar for a few years now. We need to find out what she was doing and how she got in so tight with Leeds and his crew."

"Maybe she was in jail. Could be 'dat where Leeds found her." Kono speculated.

"If she was it wasn't here," Duke said. "Could be on the mainland. She was here one day and then she wasn't. I was hoping she'd crawled back into whatever hole it was she crawled out of and was going to stay there. No such luck."

"Wasn't she picked up about ten years ago on the suspicion of importing underage girls for prostitution?" McGarrett asked.

"Yes, and all the girls were conveniently deported before they could testify. I wouldn't doubt it if she was up to some of her same old tricks."

"This time we're putting a stop to it. Get me the book on Sister Roxanne. I want to know where she's going before she gets there. Kono, see if you got snitch on Hotel Street than knows anything. I've got a bad feeling that all of this is going to lead back to Big Chicken."

"On it, boss. I'll go shake the trees until I have to go to the airport." Kono left. He'd be happy when Danny got back and resumed his share of the workload.

Duke stretched and stifled a yawn. Sleeping was something he hadn't done a lot of that weekend. "If you can't think of anything else, I'm out of here. I'll put a tail on Roxie and see where it leads us."

"Good idea. Send out the photographers. I want pictures of everyone coming and going at the mission and at the next church service."

"You got it." Duke left and headed to HPD to set things into motion.

McGarrett listened to the CD from Compton's wire. Compton had been right, the sermon consisted of more calls for contributions than altar calls. There were vague hints about the money being used to support the church's mission, with very little being mentioned as to what the mission was. Towards the end of the recording was a short and pointed message about the needs of newly released prison inmates, how Sheriff Murphy was planning on entrusting several of them in their care, and how expensive that would be, what with housing and job training and medical care. McGarrett, an occasional Catholic, felt as if he needed a shower after just listening to Reverend Leeds. Somehow the Reverend, Big Chicken, Sister Roxanne, and the mission down on Hotel Street were all connected. He was determined he'd find out how.


	5. Chapter 5

Oahu State Prison hadn't changed much in the years that McGarrett had been in charge of Five-O. About the only real change was the addition of the new maximum security wing, built fifteen years earlier, to house those convicts deemed a security risk. Big Chicken had been one of it's first inmates. He had been sent there as soon as the new wing opened for his part in an attempted jail break that had left two men badly injured. McGarrett had negotiated a peaceful end to the situation with the help of an inmate named Charlie Swanson. Swanson was out now, having used his time in prison to educate himself and to learn a trade. He now owned a small construction company that mainly employed ex cons looking for a fresh start. _At few good things came out of that whole debacle,_ Steve thought, _Swanson got rehabilitated and I got to break Chicken's jaw._

There was a new warden these days, the third since the hostage standoff. Oahu State was a security nightmare and a haven for corrupt officials. McGarrett went straight to the warden's office. He hadn't met the man yet. He hoped this one had better luck keeping order than the previous ones did.

"Warden Tomlinson will see you now, Mr. McGarrett," said the receptionist, who looked about twenty and was doing a five year stretch for selling methamphetamine across the street from a schoolyard. The kid escorted him into Tomlinson's office. The new warden was a beefy man of Portuguese descent with graying hair and baggy eyes.

"Mr. McGarrett," he said, standing up and reaching across his desk to shake hands, "my predecessor has told me a lot about you. It's good to finally meet you."

"Thank you, Mr. Tomlinson. I wish this were a social call."

"Unfortunately, it's not. Look, I'm as unhappy about this deal with the Supreme Court as you are. The lawyers from the ACLU were here about five minutes after that bunch in California made their decision. They handed us a whole list of criteria for the parole hearings, and your man Rhodes hit all of them."

"Leave it to Chicken to manipulate the system. Everything in place?"

"He's waiting for you in a visitors room, shackled, as per your request. His lawyer is with him and everything is going to be on videotape. His cell is being searched even as we speak. It's being done loudly, too, so word gets out."

"Good," Steve said, "Let's get this over with. The sooner I'm done dealing with Chicken, the better."

McGarrett followed the warden and a guard to the visitor's entrance of the maximum security wing. He emptied his pockets, surrendered his service revolver, and stood still while a metal detector was passed over his body.

"All set," the guard said.

McGarrett nodded, took a deep breath, and walked into the prison.

It was safe to say he hated the damned place.

The guard took him to the visitors room. "There's a button by the door. Buzz us when you're ready to leave."

McGarrett nodded. He opened the door and walked in.

If anything, Big Chicken had gotten bigger. He was fat before. He had bulked up by pumping iron three hours a day and had shaved his head bald and from the look of it had rubbed down in baby oil. He still had the same smirk on his face he'd had when he'd held a gun to McGarrett's head. McGarrett felt his hand involuntarily clenching into a fist. He forced his fingers to relax.

"Ah, Mr. McGarrett," Chicken began, "It was so good of you to come."

"What do you want, Chicken?" He wasn't in the mood for conversation.

"To beg your pardon, Mr. McGarrett," Chicken said, oozing with contrition. "I want only to ask your forgiveness for the little incident that happened all those years ago, when I was young and foolish. You see, I've already forgiven you for locking me up in here. As it turned out, it was a blessing in disguise."

"You want forgiveness from me? Brudah, you got the wrong man. That is not my job. My job is to lock creeps like you away and make sure they stay locked up."

Chicken's lawyer stood silently in the corner, observing everything. Chick was shackled by wrist, waist, and leg chains. He sat in straight backed wooden chair, his hands folded prayerfully. McGarrett wasn't buying a bit of the piety act.

"But, Mr. McGarrett, a leopard can indeed change it's spots. Truly. I have changed. I've found the Lord and have been forgiven. God has granted me the gift of eternal salvation. Once I have been released from this prison I will begin work as a minister of the Gospel, to help those who seek guidance to avoid the path that lead me here." Chick said, giving McGarrett a beautific smile that made him want to knock Chicken's teeth down his throat.

"You're not out yet, Chicken."

"It's all but a done deal, Mr. McGarrett." Chicken said, gloating as only he could gloat. "I've been a model prisoner these past ten years. I've attended all the counseling sessions and group therapy sessions and taken all the right classes. And then I discovered God, or God discovered me in my hour of need. When I was at my lowest point, God called to me. Maybe, Mr. McGarrett, when you've reached your lowest point, God will call to you."

"Don't hear a thing." McGarrett said. "Any place with you in it is the lowest point and I'm not hearing a word. If the parole board lets you out, just remember, I'll be watching. One step out of line, and you'll be back here so fast you won't know what happened. Good day." He turned to leave, reaching for the buzzer by the door.

"How is Sergeant Alden, Mr. McGarrett?" Chick asked.

McGarrett froze, palm poised above the buzzer. He'd heard the phrase 'his blood turned to ice' more than once. He'd always thought it was an exaggeration. Now he knew it wasn't. "Who?" he asked, turning to face Chicken.

"Oh, come now, Mr. McGarrett. You know who I'm talking about. That pretty little Army sergeant. Such a nice lady. I understand she was injured in that little fracas out in the desert."

"What are you playing at, Chicken?" he asked, his voice like ice.

"Why nothing, Mr. McGarrett." Chicken continued in a smarmy, oily voice that was making McGarrett's skin crawl, each carefully chosen and evenly spaced word sending daggers into his heart. "It's just that I wanted you to know I will be praying for Sgt Alden. Such a pretty little thing. And that tall blonde friend of hers, Sgt Yablanski, I believe is her name. If sergeants had been that pretty when I was in the Army, my life may have turned out differently. But, alas, I digress. I hear all the time about soldiers who survive a war and then meet some unfortunate accident when they get home. I shall pray that nothing like that ever happens to those two pretty sergeants. Or that cute little sailor that seems to have piqued young Officer Williams' interest."

McGarrett was across the room in two strides. Before anyone else could respond, he had Chicken by the collar, yanking him upward until Chicken's face was inches from his own. "If she so much as breaks a nail," he said through clenched teeth, "and I find out you had anything to do with it, there won't be a hole on this earth deep enough for you to hide in. Do I make myself clear?"

Chick's lawyer was shouting for the guards. Two of them grabbed McGarrett by the shoulders and hauled him back.

"Enough!" said Warden Tomlinson, who'd been waiting in the corridor. "Calm down, Mr. McGarrett."

"He just threatened the wrong people," McGarrett said in a calm and deadly voice.

"No, he didn't," said Chick's ACLU lawyer. "He simply stated that he would pray for the safety of two army sergeants and that sailor. Not an unreasonable proposal, given the history of violence in some of our veterans."

"Have you gone insane?" McGarrett asked, looking at the lawyer as if he'd grown an extra head.

"I assure you I have not. Who are these women anyway?"

"Women who had better remain healthy." he said. "You're on notice, Chick. Stay away from them."

The guards ushered McGarrett into the hall. "What was that all about?" asked Tomlinson. "Who is he talking about?"

"Three women I happen to care about. Two of them are stationed at Ft Shafter. The third is training at Quantico." McGarrett said. "How did he know about them? What did you find when you tossed his cell?"

"Usual stuff," said Tomlinson. "Didn't see anything about any army sergeants or sailors."

"Look again. And keep me posted. I want a copy of that videotape sent to my office. If the DA says there's a threat anywhere on it, he can kiss his parole hearing good-bye." He strode out of the prison, pausing only long enough to reclaim his service revolver.

* * *

McGarrett tried to calm down on the drive back home. He didn't give a damn what that damned lawyer said, he knew a threat when he heard one. He started ticking off the list of things that he needed to do to keep her safe. More HPD patrols by the house, an alarm system for her car, getting the beach patrol to cruise the beach more often. Co-ordinate with the MP's on Fort Shafter for stepped up patrols by her office. Get her a concealed carry permit and a gun. Handcuff her to his wrist. She probably wouldn't go for that last one, although it might be fun to try.

The house was too quiet when he let himself in. She didn't answer when he called her name. _Garage_ , he thought _, she must not have heard me drive up._ The door to the garage was just off the kitchen on the southwest side of the house. It was obvious the movers had been there earlier. The garage was full of boxes, what appeared to be enough furniture to furnish a two bedroom apartment and an entire set of nursery furniture in unopened boxes.

Maggie was sitting in a rocking chair in the middle of the boxes, wearing a olive drab flight jacket made to fit someone much larger and clutching a framed photograph, tears running down her face.

"Maggie, sweetie," he said, going to her and kneeling in front of her, "Baby, what's wrong?"

There was a name tag on the flight jacket that read MSG Micheal T. Alden. Her husband's jacket. Lu had packed up her quarters in Germany while Maggie was still at Walter Reed. Now that the stuff had arrived in Hawaii, she was being bombarded by memories. He laid a gentle hand on her cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb. "It's okay, baby. I'm here, everything is going to be alright. Want me to make you a cup of tea?"

She nodded. "You are too good to me," she whispered.

"It's because you deserve it. Chamomile tea?" he asked. She gave him a barely perceptible nod. "Coming right up." He kissed her on top the head as he went out, relieved that the thousand yard stare he'd come to associate with the PTSD that had haunted her since the Gulf War was nowhere in sight.

He came back a few minutes later with the tea. She took a long swallow, which seemed to calm her.

"Anything you want to tell me about?" he asked.

Her eyes were the color of wet leaves. She took a deep breathe, held it a minute, closed her eyes and exhaled. It was as if she was drawing courage from the air. "I should have told you sooner. Only I didn't know how."

She passed him the framed photograph. There was Maggie, sitting up in a hospital bed, red hair done in a long braid that fell across one shoulder, dark circles under eyes that were swollen from crying. A tall stocky balding blonde man in a surgical gown stood by the bed, looking absolutely helpless. Both of them were looking at the tiny bundle Maggie was holding.

Steve brushed a strand of loose hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She held his hand to her cheek for a minute, trying to find the right words. "My little girl. Lydia Danielle. She was born way too soon. She only weighed a pound and a half. My tiny little angel." She paused to take another drink of her tea. "I'd had two miscarriages before, so when I made it through the second trimester we thought we were home free. Bought a load of baby furniture and got ready to be parents. Only something went wrong and she came way too early and then the doctors said her lungs weren't developed and there wasn't any hope, that she was going to die and there wasn't a thing they could do. So I told them to take her out of the isolette and bring her to me, and we held her until her tiny little heart quit beating. And that was the nine hours and thirty-two minutes that I was a mom." She swallowed hard. 'I should have told you sooner, I just didn't know how. Your sister knows. We talked the day before the party. She told me about Tommy and I told her about Lydia."

Now he understood why Maggie and Mary Ann had bonded so quickly. "It's okay, honey, I know now. Why didn't you want to tell me sooner?"

Her voice sounded so far away it was frightening him. "I had her for such a short time, it's as if when I tell people about her, I give a little bit of her away, and she was so tiny and so fragile I was afraid I'd give all of her away and there wouldn't be anything left for me."

'I love you," he said. "You should have told me sooner."

"I didn't know how." She was still crying. "Want to hear the rest?"

"Might as well tell me everything at one time. Get all the tears out of the way at once."

"She was born five months before that damned war started. My doctor's advised us to wait at least six months before we even thought about trying again. So I was taking those horrible deprovera shots. One shot and you're good for three months, not that we did much of anything for the first one. It just wasn't happening. Finally Lu got tired of us blaming ourselves and each other and told us nothing was going to get any better until we started acting like adults and accept what happened. So I took the damned shots and then the war started and I got hurt and Michael got killed."

She finished the tea and set the cup on a box. She reached out to stroke his cheek. "I love you dearly but, honey, why have you never asked me about birth control? Or why I haven't had a period since we met?"

She could have sworn he was blushing and loved him even more for it. "I suppose I thought that at our age it wasn't an issue."

"I've had nine periods since the war, and none since I've been here in Hawaii. I should have told you this sooner. Only I as afraid of losing you. The doctors at Walter Reed said I've got about a million to one chance of ever getting pregnant again, and the chances of ever carrying to term are worse than that. There was a lot of internal damage and a lot of scar tissue. There's a very good possibility that we can never have children." She covered her face with her hands. "If you want to call of the wedding, I understand," she said, her voice thick with tears. "All I ever wanted was to be a mom. That damned war even managed to take that."

"Hush," he whispered, taking her in his arms. "Is that why you keep making excuses not to set a wedding date?" She nodded, not wanting to look at him. "Listen to me. It doesn't matter. If it happens, it happens and I'll be the happiest man on this Rock. If it doesn't, then it doesn't and I'm still the happiest man on this Rock because I've still got you. Now quit crying. Unless there's something else you haven't told me that could be important."

"Only that I love you."

"I know that already." he said, kissing her softly, tasting the salt of her tears. "Am I going to come home tonight and find you sitting in the middle of the garage crying?"

"No, honey, I think I'm done for now."

"That's good, because I have to go back to work. I'd feel better if you'd call me every couple of hours to let me know you're okay."

"Your sister was right. You are a worrier."

"Only about the people I care about and you're at the top of the list. Call me or I'm sending a patrol car out to check."

"You wouldn't," she said.

"Try me and see." He didn't think Chicken would try anything so soon, or at their house. He wished he could be certain.

"Okay, Commander, I'll call. I love you."

"I love you, too. I have to go back to the office. I'll see you tonight. And I'll be home at six."

He kissed her again and left, hoping she'd stop crying and knowing she probably wouldn't.


	6. Chapter 6

There was some sort of conference going on around Jenny's desk. He paused long enough to grab a cup of coffee.

"Everyone, my office, now," he ordered.

He booted up his computer and searched for the video file sent over by the warden. He cued it up to play.

"Before anyone says anything, this is how I spent my morning. And welcome back, Danno." He clicked on the play button. The interview with Big Chicken replayed on the screen.

"Whoa, Boss," said Chin Ho. "That sounds like a threat to me."

"To me, too, and for once I'm grateful that Beverly is five thousand miles away," said Danny. "How'd he know about Maggie? And Sgt Yablanski. That's getting to close to home. "

"That's what I want to know." McGarett said. He went to the chalkboard he refused to part with on the grounds he could think better when he saw things diagrammed out. "Here's what we've got so far. Thanks to the latest from the Supreme Court, Big Chicken has a parole hearing coming up Wednesday. He asked me for a meeting. You saw what happened."

"That speech sounded a little too well rehearsed," said Chin Ho. "I notice he had his lawyer there with him. You think they went over it like a script before you got there."

"Spoken like a true paranoid, Chin, and damned good cop instincts. I was thinking the same thing. It's all a little too convenient."

"How he know 'bout the Little _Menehune_ and Sgt Y?" Kono asked. "That just creepy. Like she got a stalker. 'Dat scary."

McGarrett took a drink of the black Kona coffee, waiting for the caffeine buzz. "Somehow this is all tied in with the United Church of the Living Truth. Danno, the minister of that church is one Reverend Simon Leeds. There's no record of him anywhere until he showed up at the Honolulu airport about three years ago. Find out who he really is. Hit every computer database you can find, including Interpol. He didn't just drop in from outer space."

"That all we got, just a name?" Danny asked.

"Compton got some very low resolution pictures from his cell phone that Che's trying to enhance. Check the newspaper archives just in case there's a photo of the good reverend in there. Also, see if Che was able to lift fingerprints off that flier Compton brought in, other than Compton's, that is. Throw Roxanne Harris into the mix and see what you come up with. Chin, go down to city hall. Get copies of every license, lease, deed, and tax record for that church. See how deep into their financials you can get before they start complaining."

"You got it, Boss," Chin said. "I'll check with utilities, too. See who's paying the electric bill."

"Don't forget about the mission on Hotel Street. See who's name is on the lease. Kono, find anything new about the mission?"

"Yeah. They got a whole lot of what 'dey callin' special services for the GI's around paydays and when the Navy ships are in port. So far ain't no one volunteered to go in. Sometin' 'bout 'dat place scarin' folks. Even the working girls avoid 'dat end of the strip."

"Duke's trying to get vice in there to see what's going on. I'll put in a call to the Navy and see if I can get NCIS interested."

"I watched the place a couple of hours Sunday. Them girls they got going in 'dere look way too young to be hanging out on Hotel Street."

"So far," McGarrett said, writing on the chalkboard, "we've got Big Chicken, a reverend who just appeared one day, a church with none other than Sheriff Murphy as a political sponsor, a mission on Hotel Street that's looking more like a front for prostitution than a church, a known associate of Big Chicken's who's involved with both the church and the mission, and a whole lot of cash going though a church in a bad part of town. Gentlemen, this whole thing reeks."

"Yeah," said Kono. "Like a chicken house on a hot day."

They all looked at Kono. "What 'da matter? Ain't none of you ever raised chickens?"

"This is one chicken we want to keep in the cage." McGarrett said.

"I can't get no one to go in 'dat mission," Kono said. "You 'tink we ought to let Compton's girlfriend go in like she want to? She our best bet findin' out what goin' on."

"Only as a very last resort if we can't get in any other way. Its too dangerous. That's it for now. Hit the streets. I have a feeling when this one hits, its going to be big. Danno, a minute please."

"What's up, Steve?" Danny asked.

"You know more about these computers than I ever will. Could it be possible that Chicken somehow found out about Maggie using a computer?"

"Anything's possible. Borrow your machine a minute?"

"Be my guest." Steve said, pointing Danny to his chair as he went to get another cup of coffee.

A minute later they had their answer from a digital copy of the Honolulu Courier's society pages.

"Good picture there, Steve," Danny said. "Maggie looks great in that uniform."

"She does, doesn't she? She was a little overwhelmed by the cameras. Why this picture? It doesn't give her name. Just a caption."

"I kind of like the 'one of Hawaii's most eligible bachelors' thing." Danny said.

"Not anymore." Steve said. "I'm relinquishing that title to you as soon as she makes up her mind on a date."

"Beat you to it." Danny said.

"What?"

"Not eligible for that title anymore." Danny held up his left hand, showing a plain gold band. "We got married Friday night. Drove over to West Virginia and did the deed. Guess we'll have a reception when she's here for the holidays."

McGarrett looked at his second in command, incredulous. "I had no idea it was that serious. Congratulations. I wish you every happiness there is. Maggie and the rest of the girls are going to have a Southern style conniption fit when they find out."

"I think I can handle that," Danny said. "It's Tilda who's going to be the problem. She was all set on being a flower girl."

"Good luck with that one, Little Brudah. She doesn't look like the forgiving type."

Danny called up the lexus/nexus search engine and typed in Maggie's name. A list soon appeared, most of it links to articles from the Stars and Stripes. Nowhere was her name linked with McGarrett's except in the article about Waldrop's capture, and only then as the writer. There was also a picture from the press conference. She was standing at the left of the podium with the staff from the _Stars and Stripes_ , almost lost in the crowd of taller people. McGarrett and the rest of the Five-O team were standing to the right.

"That's the whole gang, including Beverly. Maybe Chicken saw both the pictures and put two and two together," Danny said. "Plus that snide remark by the Courier about he _Stars and Stripes_ getting an exclusive. That got Meyers and a few of his cronies riled."

"Meyers didn't help us catch a killer, those women did." McGarrett stated. That was the only time he'd ever given Maggie inside information, and even then it hadn't been that much, and he'd only done it because one of her soldiers had been one of Waldrop's victim's. "You think Chicken's got computer access at the prison?"

"I doubt it. What little computer access inmates have is closely monitored. I'll check anyway, just to be safe."

There was one more article at the bottom of the list, dated over five years earlier. It was an article from the New Orleans Times-Picayune with a black and white picture that must have been gleaned from her high school yearbook. The headline read "Grande Isle Soldier Injured in Desert Storm". He had Danny print the article, wondering if she'd even seen it, and if that was how Chicken knew she had been injured in the War.

"I suppose he could have seen the newspapers. They're easy enough to come by at the prison library." Danny said.

"It's just a picture in the paper. She's not the first woman I've been photographed with over the years. Why this one particular picture?"

"That's because you don't see it." Danny said. "Look again. Look at how you're looking at her. Anyone with eyes can tell you've got it bad for her. Hell, I knew it that day she dropped in here with that little throw away camera the Thompson's had. Brudah, it was love at first sight."

"That apparent?" McGarrett asked. "Was that how it was for you and Beverly?"

"No, she just kinda grew on me. Now I don't even want to think about living without her. By the way, you'll never guess who one of her classmates is. The one she keeps trading first and second place in class ranking with."

"Who's that?"

"One Ensign John Cooper McGarrett."

Steve nearly dropped his coffee cup. "He's doing NCIS training?"

"Yes. He asked about you. Said to give you his regards."

"I'll bet his mother is having a fit. The one she had when he went Annapolis was epic."

"Wouldn't know about all that. He's a nice kid. Looks just like you."

"Another thing Margo refuses to forgive me for."

"Steve, you did your best. You could only do what she let you do. He turned out fine."

Steve shook his head sadly. He didn't like to admit defeat and where Margo Cooper was concerned the battle had been swift, painful, and one sided. He'd lost, but at least he had Cooper, as the boy insisted on being called.

"Enough. Danno, get me the book on Reverend Leeds. See if he's hired any PI's lately and find out if anyone in that blasted church knows how to operate a computer. Compton mentioned that flier had a website listed. When you check with Che about fingerprints and pictures, get contact information off the flier. Find out just how much computer snooping he's been doing and if any of it is considered an invasion of privacy. Also, check Murphy's campaign contributors. See if the Reverend's name shows up on the list."

"You got it. I'll get back with you this evening."

"I'm out of here no later than five-thirty. I don't know what Chicken's up to, but until I do I don't want Maggie alone after it gets dark."

"Can't say that I blame you in the least." Danny said as he left.

Ten minutes later Duke came in, looking uncharacteristically harried.

"What's up, Brudah?" Steve asked.

"Your boy Murphy called the mayor because someone from the Church of the Living Truth has complained that uniformed HPD presence on Hotel Street is making it hard for them to operate in a community outreach capacity. Murphy yelled at the mayor, who yelled at the chief, who yelled at the captain, who yelled at me and every other sergeant on the street, and expects me to yell at my officers for doing their job. I may need some of your blood pressure medicine before today is over."

"You may want to take some now. Have a look at this." Steve re-played the interview with Big Chicken.

"Congratulations," Duke said. "You didn't strangle him. How'd he find out about Maggie, Susan, and Beverly?"

"Don't know yet but I'm going to find out. Can I get a couple of extra patrols by the house. Make it random patrols and I want them visible."

"Not a problem. I'll get the Harbor patrol and the Beach patrol to do random checks beachside. Does she know about the threat?"

"Not yet. I don't want to tell her either. She'll think I'm worrying over nothing."

"She got a gun? I know you've got an arsenal. Does she know how to use them? Wait, she's army, of course she does."

"Yes, but the one thing I don't have is a sixteen with a grenade launcher, which seems to be her weapon of choice."

"That'd put a damper on anyone's parade. Should I tell Susan about this? If they're not with us, or at work, usually they're together."

"I didn't think about that. Co-ordinate with the MP's about some extra security around the _Stars and Stripes_ building and the BEQ. There are a lot of GI's in and out of that mission. It would only take one disgruntled soldier to do something really stupid."

"Hanging out at that mission is already evidence of stupid. Maybe I can talk Susan into staying with me for a while." _Like forever_ , he added to himself.

"Good idea if you can get her to go along with it. Those are two very stubborn women. Find anything else on our girl Roxie?"

"Only that she practically lives at the mission and she travels frequently on church business. I'm trying to get a warrant for her travel records. So far no luck and Manicote says we need more evidence before he can ask for one. The captain was so busy yelling about patrol officers impeding the missions business that he completely ignored my request to send in vice."

"Try again tomorrow after he's cooled down." McGarrett loaded a CD into the drive and burned a copy of interview. "I'm off to see Manicote. If there's anything on that CD that resembles a threat, Chicken's parole hearing is canceled."

"You know it's a threat, I know it's a threat, only the lawyers aren't going to see it that way. That's why he had his standing by." Duke said, getting up to leave. "Be careful, Steve. Chicken want's something. I think he's going after Maggie and Susan to get us to back off. From what, I can't tell you. At least not yet."

"I think you're right. It seems that we're annoying the right people." He finished his coffee, thought about grabbing another cup and decided against it. He took the CD from the burner, dropped it into his jacket pocket, and headed for the DA's office.


	7. Chapter 7

McGarrett got home at ten minutes to six to house filled with the aroma of good food. The table in the dining room was set for two with china, crystal, flatware, and candlesticks on a white damask tablecloth. Maggie must have spent most of the day unpacking and the rest cooking. He found her in the kitchen, putting together a salad to go with whatever was in the oven.

"I can't believe you actually made it home on time," she said, turning to embrace him.

"I could get use to this," he said, kissing her. "No more tears?"

"Told you I was done. Dinner in about an hour. I even found two bottles of German wine that I hope traveled well. I know you very seldom drink, but you have to at least give this a try."

"Anything to make you happy," he said. "The table looks very nice."

"I was surprised everything survived the trip. We're going to have to get some help to get the china cabinet into the dining room. You don't have one."

"Never needed one before. Is that what that huge thing in the garage is? Will it fit?"

"Yes, I already measured it. It weighs about a ton. Funny, I never used those dishes before. Just kept them in the cabinet collecting dust, waiting for a special occasion that never came."

"Tonight's a special occasion?" he asked, kissing her on top the head, drinking in the scent of her hair.

"Any night that you make it home before midnight is a special occasion." she said, smiling up at him.

"That's going to change," he said, holding her close.

"Dinner in about an hour. You've got time to shower and disarm."

"That's my Little _Menehune,_ " he said. She always complained about shoulder holster for the service revolver he carried being in the way when she put her arms around him. The .45 in the drawer of the nightstand was in a pancake holster worn at the hip. He'd never really liked the hip holster but tonight he'd wear it. Tomorrow he'd take her to HPD's firing range to see how well she could shoot. He knew he had to keep her safe. Then why was the idea of her carrying a gun tearing his heart out? She was a soldier. She had a sharpshooters badge and had been in combat. He knew she was familiar with firearms. Then why did he feel as if he was stealing part of the innocence she had managed to maintain through nearly nineteen years in the army and a war in the desert?

The sun was starting to set when he returned to the kitchen to find her icing down a bottle of white wine from Germany's Ruhr Valley. He wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Sun's going down. Time for a walk on the beach before dinner?" he asked.

"Hmmmm," she said, leaning against him, inhaling the scent of the sandalwood cologne he always wore. "You're going to have start getting home on time more often. A walk on the beach sounds perfect, after you take your medication." She handed him a glass of ice water and the pill bottle. He hadn't had a headache since he'd started taking the blood pressure medication and was generally feeling better. Not that he was going to admit that to anyone. He swallowed the pill and kissed her on the tip of her nose when he was done.

They walked down the path the beach holding hands like a couple of kids. She made him feel twenty, no thirty years younger. She had somehow managed to break through the layers of cynicism he'd built up over the years. _She makes my world a better place,_ he thought, echoing what Duke had said about Lu. _What was it with these women in uniform? They manage to find a way into your heart and make you see the world in a different way_. He put his arm around her waist, holding her close as they walked at the surf line, the water washing over their bare feet.

The sun was setting behind the mountains to the west, bathing the beach in a golden glow. "It's so peaceful, this time of evening," she said, enjoying the sound of the wind and the waves until a jet ski blew by, sending up a wake and making entirely too much noise. "Except for that idiot. You'd think he'd be ready to go home by now. He's been at it since about two this afternoon. Every fifteen minutes. You can just about set your watch by him. Did he just salute?"

Steve groaned inwardly. He'd forgotten that the beach patrol had started using jet skies, a machine he considered to have been invented by Satan himself to annoy anyone wanting to listen to the wind and the water in peace and the bane of sailboats everywhere. He did say he wanted the stepped up patrols visible. He'd gotten them.

"I suppose that's the price of progress," he said. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better. You had me worried this morning."

"It was the initial shock of seeing stuff. It probably wouldn't have been so bad if I'd had a chance to pack things up myself. I didn't have that chance after the War. I'm good now. I promise."

They walked further down the beach, listening to the sound of the surf.

"How does December the thirtieth sound?" she asked.

"My birthday? You want to have a party?"

"No, silly. A wedding. That way you never forget our anniversary."

He looked down at her, smiling in the twilight. "And I get the best birthday present I've ever had." He cradled her face in his hands, tilting it upward to kiss her. "Now all we have to do is decide where," he said.

"How about right here on this beach at sunrise?"

"I can't think of a better way to start a morning," he kissed her again as the jet ski roared by once more.

"Dinner should be ready by now. He's better than an oven timer," she said, laughing.

They walked back to the house, holding hands.

* * *

Lu's phone rang as she stepped out of the shower. She didn't make it to the phone in time to answer but when she checked the caller ID and saw a missed call from Duke she hit re-dial.

"Hey, magic lady," he said when he answered. "I was starting to get worried about you."

"I was in the shower."

"Does this mean you're naked?" he asked, hopefully.

"And if I am? You planning on doing anything about it?"

"Get dressed and get over here and I'll show you. That's an invitation, by the way. I missed you last night."

Lu thought it over for about ten seconds. "I'll be there in forty-five minutes. Missed you too." She hung up her phone, humming a happy little tune that would have made every troop in her command question her sanity if they had heard her. She got dressed, threw a few things into an overnight bag, and practically skipped down the stairs and out the building to her car.

She never noticed the car that pulled out behind her and followed her to Duke's house.

* * *

Maggie had three glasses of wine and was feeling a little tipsy. Steve considered a happy, tipsy Maggie a huge improvement over the one he'd found crying in the garage that morning. They were on the sofa, Maggie curled up next to him reading while he pretended to watch the Yankees. _It's time,_ he thought. _Time I realized I've got someone I can share my life with. She doesn't ask, she doesn't pry, she simply waits for me to tell her. It's time, she needs to know. If for no other reason than to stop fretting about the possibility she can't give me a child._

"My Little _Menehune_ ," he said, turning off the TV as he did. "We need to talk. I know that's suppose to be your line, but tonight it's mine." He kissed her softly.

"Is this about the wedding? I thought we had that settled. December thirtieth at sunrise," she said, closing her book.

"In a way, yes. Can you understand that before I met you there wasn't anyone I could share personal things with and I got out of the habit. Then I met you and everything changed. This is about as personal as it gets. You know I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you?

"If you don't you're wasting a really nice engagement ring," she said, wondering where all this was leading.

He was playing with her hair, twisting the strands of silver around his fingers. He had always been attracted to women with long, flowing hair and Maggie's was magnificent. "A long time ago, I met a woman name Margo Cooper. She was a photojournalists on assignment here in Hawaii. I wanted to marry her. She didn't like the idea of being married to what she called a 'twenty-eight hour cop', and we broke up. Eight years later, she came back to Hawaii. She was here for two days. When she left, she was carrying my child. I didn't know until eight months later when she called, asking questions about my health history, and she only did that because her doctor had insisted. She was in New York at the time and something told me I needed to find out what was going on. I got the next plane out and found a very pregnant Margo waiting for me. I wanted to get married, she refused. Her only concession was to give him my name."

She looked up at him, her eyes soft with love. "I think today was the day for putting the past to rest for both of us. I told you about my Lydia, time for you to tell me about your son. That explains the pictures in the drawer. You have a son. How old is he now?"

"What pictures?" he asked giving her a quizzical look.

"The ones in the drawer of the table by the door where you put all the mail. You know me, I never can find a pen when I need one. I thought maybe there was one in the drawer. I saw the edge of the photo and had to look, being the nosy reporter that I am. I thought it was a picture of you from when you were at Annapolis, only the uniform was wrong and his eyes are brown not blue. Other than that, he looks just like you. You want to tell me about him now? Or do I have to coerce the information out of you?" she said, unbuttoning his shirt to gently massage his shoulders.

"I think I like that kind of coercion. He just turned twenty-one. He graduated from Annapolis in May. I couldn't go because I was here chasing down a drug lord from the mainland. In a way Margo was right. She said I was too much of a cop to make a good father."

"Doesn't sound like she gave you much of a chance," Maggie said, continuing to massage his shoulders, trying to ease the tension in the muscles.

"She had her own ideas about that. I got to see him once a year. I guess she was afraid he'd want to be a twenty-eight hour a day cop like his father. She wouldn't even take child support from me. Said she made more than enough to take care of him. I'd send the checks and she'd send them back. I finally started a bank account for the kid, thinking maybe buy him a car when he got his license and help pay for college. She bought the car before I even knew he had the license and the Navy paid for college. If he ever decides to buy a house, he's going to have a nice down payment that his mother isn't going to have a damned thing to say about."

"What was she like?" Maggie asked.

"Beautiful, brilliant, talented, and stubborn. She always said she could never do the Susie Homemaker act. She wanted me to go with her. Follow her around the globe. I would have lasted about ten minutes."

"Did you love her?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Yes, I did. I guess it wasn't enough."

"She had a son with you. She must have loved you back, at least a little."

"Maybe. Who knows? I use to think it didn't work out because we were both too stubborn to compromise."

"Odd how things work out." She reached up to brush the hair off his forehead. "At least you've a son. Wow! I'm going to be a step-mom. What's his name and when do I get to meet . Wait, he's going to be here for the wedding, right?" She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

"Yes, I will invite him to the wedding. I wanted him to fly in when you met my sister, except he was on a ship in the middle of the Atlantic at the time. His name is John Cooper McGarrett, but he insists on being called Cooper. Why does this make you happy?"

She got quiet, thinking before she spoke. "I thought that I was cheating you out of a family because I don't know if I can have children. I feel better now, though, because I am going to make one awesome grandma one of these days. Now you can take the pictures out of the drawer and put them on the wall where they belong."

"Lady, you are amazing." he said, burying his face in her hair. "You find out I've got a son and five minutes later you're ready to be a grandma. You're going to be one sexy grandma."

"Flattery will get you just about anywhere, Big Guy," she said, repeating a line that always made him happy. "Anything else I need to know about? No more little Stevie's running around?"

"No, sweetie," he said. "Just the one. How about you? Any old boyfriends out there I should know about?"

"No," she said, softly. "It was always just Michael. And then you. That's it."

"Now I'm flattered. Not even a high school sweetheart back in Louisiana waiting for you to come back home?"

"You've never been to Grande Isle or you would know exactly how ridiculous that idea is. The entire island is smaller than Ft. Shafter. The only thing out there is marsh, swamp, and the Gulf of Mexico. You either work the boats or for the oil companies or at the sugar refinery. Not a great career path for women. The last thing I ever wanted to do was get stuck on a barrier island at the end of Louisiana. You, Mr. High School Football Star, wouldn't have given me a second glance. I was that weird nerdy girl with her head always stuck in a book. The one who was always looking over the horizon trying to find an adventure." She paused a minute, thinking. "Then I found the adventure. Or the adventure found me. I graduated from high school and spent the summer waiting tables. I knew that wasn't for me. A couple of Army recruiters came in for lunch, we started talking, the next thing I knew I was in New Orleans taking the oath. Hadn't the vaguest freaking clue what I had just signed up for. It was the beginning of the New Army. I was in the first class of female recruits to be trained with men at lovely place called Ft Leonard Wood. It was a disaster. They had no idea what to do with us. None of the equipment fit, especially when you're only five foot one and wear size three combat boots. We got snide remarks, called bad names, referred to as 'split tails', catcalled, deliberately set up for injuries, and had a couple of DI's from another company who openly stated that the only reason we were there was to keep the men away from the local women. I did what I always do, retreated into a book when I could and ignored the rest of the world. The women coming in today have no idea what we went through just to get a little respect from command."

"That's why you're so overprotective of your women soldiers."

"I suppose. Lu says I'm just channeling all that excess mommy energy I never got to use. She could very well be right. I got lucky. After AIT I got stationed in Germany. I met Lu and Michael and then what I thought was going to be happy ever after got interrupted by a war in the desert. Then I met you and it's a whole new adventure."

He pulled her into his lap. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. "You will make a wonderful mom. And a beautiful one. If we're going to have a baby, tonight's as good a time to start as any."

"Is that a hint, Big Guy?" she asked, smiling.

"Baby, that's a sure thing." He was unbuttoning her blouse, happy to find that she wasn't wearing a bra, when the doorbell rang.

"Who could that be at this hour?" she asked, sitting up and re-buttoning her blouse.

"Stay here," Steve said, getting up and drawing the .45. He pulled back the slide, chambering a round and thumbed off the safety catch. The doorbell rang again. He drew back the curtain on the window by the door to find two HPD officers, Compton and his partner Marks, to be exact, standing on the stoop in the glow of the security light with two men between them.

McGarrett lowered the weapon and opened the door. "I thought you two were on day shift on Hotel Street. Mind telling me what's going on?" He recognized the men the officers were holding. One of them Mark Meyers, the other apparently his cameraman.

"Volunteered for some overtime, sir. We found these two lurking in the shrubbery, Mr. McGarrett," said Compton. "They claim to work for channel nine."

"They do, or at least Meyers does. What are you doing outside my house, Mr. Meyers. Feel free to let me know at any time."

Compton thought McGarrett was being too nice. Meyers knew he was and decided that in this case, truth in journalism was a safe bet. "We got a tip that there's a hit out on you." he said. "It's suppose to happen tonight. We wanted to be here to see if it went down."

"A tip? From whom? Don't you think you should have called me first? Or HPD? Don't tell me, you got an anonymous phone call with no caller ID. I don't suppose you checked to see if you were followed?"

"Uh, no," said Meyers.

"You probably just led someone to my house. Now I'm going to have to find out who. You've been had, Brudah. Book 'em both for trespassing, please."

"What about the hit, sir?" Marks asked.

"There isn't one. No one calls the press to announce a hit, unless they're as stupid as the person they're tipping off. Get 'em out of here before they ruin the rest of my evening."

"No problem, sir. We'll take care of it." Compton and Marks handcuffed the two reporters and loaded them into the squad car.

Steve locked the front door when they had left, making sure the dead bolts were set. Maggie was still sitting on couch, her face pale. He switched the safety back on and put the gun on the coffee table.

"You okay, sweetie?" he asked, sitting down beside her.

"Is it just me or was that just plain damned strange? Is someone trying to kill you?"

"No, baby, no one's trying to kill me. If they were they wouldn't have called in a news crew. Hit men generally don't want witnesses, especially ones with video cameras."

"You sure?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"Yes, baby, I'm sure. Meyers has been out chasing ghosts tonight."

"I'm tired of ghosts," she said. "The only thing I want to think about tonight is you."

Her arms went around his neck as he pulled her back into his lap. "Wasn't that shirt unbuttoned earlier?"

"Like this," she said, slowly undoing the buttons.

"Yes, like that," he said, his hands reaching under the fabric. The cop part of his mind that was always on duty was wondering who had called Meyers. He had a bad feeling that someone was looking for security gaps, trying to find out what they were. Now whoever the shadowy 'they' were knew about the extra patrols by HPD. Tomorrow he'd start the process of finding out who, although he was almost certain he knew already. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight he had Maggie, and that was all he needed, or wanted.

Later, when they were lying together basking in the glow of really good sex, he stroked the soft skin of her belly, letting his hand rest on the warm flesh just above her pelvis bone.

"Your tummy feels swollen," he said, sleepily.

"I think I may be about to get a very rare period," she said, equally sleepy. "I've got an appointment with the gynecologist next week. Maybe we'll get good news and she'll tell me everything is working again."

"Doesn't matter. I love you anyway." He moved closer, holding her against his chest.. "Good night, love." He fell asleep soon after.

She lay awake a while longer... hoping.


	8. Chapter 8

He stood on the lanai outside his office at Iolani Palace, coffee mug in hand, staring off into the distance. McGarrett was having one of those days when he tried to calculate how much open water he could put off his stern until either guilt or the governor called him back. _Doesn't matter,_ he thought, _I'm not leaving without my Little Menehune and she'd be AWOL._ As tempting as sailing off into the sunset was in theory, he knew it was something he'd never put into practice.

He went back to his desk and exchanged the coffee mug for the folder containing the criminal history of one Charles Arthur Rhodes, aka Big Chicken. He glanced down at his watch. In exactly one hour, at four in the afternoon to be precise, the doors of Oahu State Prison would open and Big Chicken and five other convicts would be released. He could picture the smile on the smarmy cons face as he walked out into the free air where the Reverend Simon Leeds and the United Church of the Living Truth had arranged a press conference.

He wasn't angry. He was way past that. He had reached the point of cold, single-minded intensity that was the other side of anger. He'd never had an investigation that had been blocked at so many points by so many factors. Even Five-O's most reliable and trustworthy informants refused to say anything about the church or the mission on Hotel Street. Sending Vice in had been met by a roadblock. The same with Fraud and Bunco. The sheriff and members of the city council had the audacity to try preventing HPD officers from making routine patrols by the church or the mission. He was almost desperate enough to send Ivory Thompson into the mission wearing a wire, just to see what they were getting up to, only she was a soldier, not a police officer, and it was too risky. The military had rules of engagement. Big Chicken didn't.

He had tried. The rest of the team had tried. They had pushed themselves to the limits with long hours and late nights. The tail on Roxanne Harris had so far turned up zilch and been canceled. The only thing of interest they had managed to find on her was why she had suddenly disappeared from the Islands. Sister Roxie had been up to her old tricks when she tried to con a man who wouldn't be conned. The man, Hiru Shitake, was a member of the Japanese mob in town to do a little business that involved the smuggling of black tar heroin from Asia's Golden Triangle. Roxie had barely escaped with her life, and had fled to the mainland, setting up shop in San Diego, where she had been busted on a human trafficking charge involving underage Mexican girls. The charge was later reduced to misdemeanor pandering when the girls were deported back to Mexico. Same song, different course, Duke had said when he handed him the report.

"She did a year at San Diego's Los Colinas Prison," Duke had said, "where she got involved with a church group called the True Vine of the Lord, led by one Reverend Samuel Solomon. How well do you know the Bible, Steve?"

"Not nearly as well as you do, I suspect. I come from a long line of Irish Catholics who let the women do the praying. The last time I was in church was for funeral."

"This is my theory, and it may sound a little far fetched, so bare with me. All these names are Biblical. Samuel was an old testament prophet who anointed Saul as the first king of Israel. Solomon is known as being the greatest and wisest king of all time. Now we've got the Reverend Simon Leeds. Go to the new testament and you find one Simon Peter, who was one of the original church leaders. This is all to co-incidental to be random."

"You may be on to something there, Duke." McGarrett had said, getting up and going to Danny's office.

Danny was at his desk, sifting though a pile of computer printouts. "Danno, get back to the computer lab. I've got a whole new set of parameters for the Iron Brain."

Danny gave him a crooked smile as he stood up, stretching the kinks out of his back as he did. "Not iron, Steve, silicon. That's what makes the things work these days."

"I don't care it the thing needs a shot of gin every two hours, as long as it works. I need you to start looking for ministers with Biblical names in charge of prison ministries. Start on the West Coast with Reverend Samuel Solomon and the True Vine of the Lord and work your way East."

"That's still pretty vague. It's going take a while." Danny said.

"Your wife's in DC, it's not like you have a social life anymore." Steve said, smiling at his second-in-command.

"Don't remind me," Danny said as he was putting on his jacket. He missed Beverly more than ever.

Danny had been right. The trail was there and had led to a Reverend John Luke Daniels in San Antonio, Texas, to a Reverend Hosea Moses in Brownsville, and to about two dozen others they were trying to sort through. Even with the computers, it was slow going, but at least it was a start. The fingerprints on the flier Compton had brought in had been partials and so far no luck identifying who they belonged to. The photo's weren't much help either. Change clothes, change hair, grow a mustache, a little cosmetic work here and there, get a whole new appearance. There was new facial recognition software that could be used, only you needed a court order to use it, and so far, they couldn't find a shred of probable cause.

"I'm sorry, Steve," John Manicote had said at their usual Friday meeting, "a lifetimes worth of cop instincts won't hold up in court. I can't get a warrant without the probable cause that you don't have. You know I trust your gut instincts more than I trust most people's facts. Doesn't do any good."

"So Big Chicken walks and we wait?" he'd asked.

"That's about it. I had the attorney general's office go over the video of your meeting with Rhodes. They couldn't find any evidence of a threat made by Chicken. However, there's a very good record of you losing that famous temper of yours. The good news being that Chicken has graciously declined not to press excessive force charges."

He'd gone back to his office, too annoyed to do much more than stare out the window and re-read the files, looking for something, anything that would result in a search warrant.

There was a soft knock on the door and Jenny came in with a courier envelope from the ATF. "I thought you'd want this as soon as it came in," she said.

"Thanks, love. Call Duke and let him know it's here, please."

"Will do," she said, putting a bottle of cold pineapple juice on the desk.

"What, no coffee?" he asked.

"Doc says you drink too much coffee. Drink your juice." She left before he could argue with her. He opened the juice, noting it was a locally bottled brand that Maggie always bought because it was pure juice with no sugar or preservatives added. It was ice cold and insanely delicious.

He opened the envelope and took out the papers inside. Two concealed carry permits, one for Maggie, one for Lu. He'd had to get the ATF to expedite the paperwork to get them so soon, even though it was proving to be an exercise in futility. Maggie had refused to go to the firing range. She could shoot, she had said, and hit what she aimed at and didn't need or want any target practice. Duke had taken Lu down to the range the same afternoon to familiarize her with the .45 he was insisting she carry. Lu had fired one clip, hitting a tight cluster into center mass with all but one round, and told him that was enough for her.

"Good shooting, magic lady," Duke said. "I thought Steve was bringing Maggie by."

"No. Maggie does not do firing ranges. The last time she did, I thought we were going to have to sedate her. She has a huge issue with gunfire, especially if someone opens up with an automatic. Understandable after Desert Storm. I can about deal with it, only I wasn't in firefight. She was."

Duke nodded. "You okay?" he asked, holding her close, remembering how he'd been for months after he'd returned from Vietnam, hypersensitive to his surroundings and jumping at loud noise. He'd gotten over that after a year or so and hoped that one day the nightmares would end.

"You could take me out for a drink. Or maybe just take me home and hold me for a while."

"I think that can be arranged," he said, opening her door.

That was Tuesday afternoon. Now he sat across from Steve, reading over the permit for Susan Louise Yablanski.

"I don't even know why you bothered," Duke said. "They can't carry on Ft Shafter even if they have a permit."

McGarrett had been on guard since being invaded by reporters Monday night. Duke had a similar occurrence two days later when his daughter had asked about the gray sedan parked down the street from their house.

"He's been there all day, Daddy, and I know he was here last night. It's kinda creepy." For a seventeen year old, Lillie was unusually level headed. It took a lot to shake her, and if she thought the guy in the car was creepy, he probably was.

Duke had to agree with his daughter. From a vantage point in the attic he scoped out a middle aged male holding a pair of binoculars sitting in the front seat, his back to the passenger side door. He'd traded his uniform and service revolver for jeans, an aloha shirt and a .45. He went out the back door, through the gate and into the alley, and, polite as ever, asked the neighbor watering her roses two houses down if he could cut though her yard to the street.

He crossed the street and turned down the sidewalk. The man with the binoculars was either new at surveillance or just didn't care. His back was to the door and the window was open to catch the breeze.

"Want to tell me why you're watching my house, Brudah?" Duke asked, sticking the .45 in the man's ear.

"Uh... pretty girls?" he stammered.

"Wrong answer. The only girls at my house are my daughter and my girlfriend, and you're not authorized to watch either of them. Out of the car."

He had the man sitting on the ground, handcuffed, when HPD arrived. The name on his ID said Carlton Sanders and he refused to say any more, demanding a lawyer before the handcuffs had even snapped closed. Duke had the car towed and impounded for Che's inspection, mostly because he could.

McGarrett hadn't had any better luck running down the whoever had tipped off Meyers and his cameraman to the bogus hit. Phone records had produced a pre-paid cell phone addressed at a vacant lot and belonging to a man currently occupying a crypt at Punchbowl. The damned criminals were starting to get smarter.

"Sanders still cooling downtown?" McGarrett asked.

"Sprung late yesterday, plead down to petty voyeurism. Bondsman said he paid cash. If he shows up at my house again he's going to need insurance."

"Don't think he's going to." McGarrett said. "I have a feeling someone was testing the waters. Why else send a news crew to my house on phony tip?"

"Good question. One we really need to find the answer to, and soon." Duke said.

Danny and Kono came in, carrying stacks of computer printouts. For the first time in days they felt like they was making real progress. "Okay, looks like I've found the pattern." Danny said. "You were right, Duke. All those Biblical names lead back to one man. William Blake Hudson, age fifty-five, religious huckster of the first order. If there's a scam to be pulled in the name of God, he's pulled it. I've traced him all the way back to Waycross, Georgia where he started and across the mainland until he fetched up on the West Coast at Los Colinas Prison, where he met up with our girl Roxie about four years ago. I think I just found your probable cause to turn on the facial recognition software."

"Good work," McGarrett said. " Any wants or warrants out for Mr. Hudson or any of his alter ego's? I'd love to collar him at his own press conference."

"No such luck. So far, the good reverend has managed to avoid both arrest and prosecution. Some of his church members haven't been so lucky. Four are currently serving time in various federal prisons for assorted money laundering scams, as well as one pyramid scheme a la Jim and Tami Baker."

"If we prove Leeds, Solomon, and Hudson are one in the same then we've got all the probable cause we need for wire taps and warrants. Find someone at the Justice Center who hasn't left for the weekend and get the warrants for the facial recognition software. Think you've got enough pictures for the software to work?"

"If not, I know where I can find more. He's hiding in plain sight on the internet. Lots of pictures to choose from." Danny looked at his watch. "Want to turn on the news? It's time for Chicken's big moment in the spotlight."

"I'd rather poke myself in the eye with a sharp stick. Not much else we can do here tonight. Danno, get those warrants and then let's call it a week. Who's on call?"

"Me, Boss," Kono said, raising his hand.

"Keep an ear open for anything that sounds odd. I'm getting a really bad feeling about all this."

"Want me to get Compton and his girlfriend back into the church Sunday? I know they're both game for it," Duke said.

"No, too risky for the girl. Get a unmarked car and a photographer down there for Sunday. I want as many pictures of the good churchgoers as you can get."

"On it." Duke said. "Anything else?" Susan would be at his house at six. He couldn't wait to see her.

"Not that I can think of now. That's it, gentlemen. I'll see you all on Monday unless something breaks."

McGarrett shoved the case folders and Maggie's concealed carry permit into his briefcase. He called Maggie's cell phone and got her voice mail. He called her line at the _Stars and Stripes_ , only to get more voice mail. He waited ten minutes and called her cell once more. This time she answered it on the third ring.

"You know I don't like answering the phone when I'm driving," she said.

"I know, baby," he said, hoping he didn't sound as relieved as he felt. "I'll be home at five. Why don't I take my favorite lady out to dinner tonight?"

"Sounds great, since I really don't feel like cooking. You sure you're up to it? You've been putting in some long hours this week."

"I'm fine. I'll see you at home," he said, hanging up the phone. He put on his jacket, picked up his briefcase, and went out to his car, hoping to get ahead of the rush hour traffic. With luck, he'd get home as she was pulling into the driveway. Until he knew what Big Chicken was up to, he didn't like having her out of his sight.

He knew what Chicken was capable of. McGarrett had seen it all too often when one of the girls in Chicken's stable displeased the fat man. During the hostage standoff at the prison Chick had cracked three of his ribs and had left bruises on his abdomen that rivaled the sunset for colors and that was before he had bulked up pumping iron.

He didn't want that slimy creep anywhere near his Little _Menehune._

* * *

For once he was home before she was. He took advantage of the situation by running hot water into the Jacuzzi. _Yes,_ he thought _, a soak in the tub before dinner. I think we both need it._ The tub was still filling when he heard her car pull into the driveway, AC/DC's Thunderstruck at ear bleeding decibels blasting from the CD player. Music to drive by, she called it. He had a hard time calling it music, although he did concede that there were times heavy metal just worked.

She joined him in the bedroom, wearing a green army blouse and the class A skirt, her jacket over her arm, beret still perched atop her head. "How's my Little _Menehune?"_ He asked, bending to kiss her cheek.

"Tired," she said, leaning against him.

"There's hot water in the Jacuzzi. All you have to do is get in and turn on the jets."

"Do I get some company?" she asked.

"It's a big tub. I'd hate to see all that extra water going to waste." he said, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Give me about five minutes to get out of this uniform and pin my hair up and I'll join you," she said.

She was soon gloriously naked. She slid into the tub next to him, leaning against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey," she whispered,"I didn't realize how tired I was until I stopped moving. I don't know if it's the weather or just me but all I want to do lately is sleep."

"Same here," he said, pulling her closer. He switched on the jets, letting the bubbles and hot water massage the weariness from their bones.

"Then let's just stay home. We can watch a movie or read or..."

"Or what?" he asked.

"How about just going to bed and going to sleep. Tomorrow Lu and I start wedding planning. It's going to be a busy day. I've got appointments at two bridal salons and the printers for the invitations."

"How big of a production is this going to be?" he asked, laughing softly.

"Not as big as you're imagining. It's going to be beach casual. Nothing fancy."

"Anything I need to do?"

"Keep me from turning into bridezilla?" she said. She felt herself relaxing as he massaged her neck and shoulders. "You can keep that up all night."

"Steve, honey?" she asked after a while. "Is there something going on that I need to know about?"

"Not really," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Lu and I compared notes at lunch today, that's why. We've both been reporters for a long time; we know when somethings up. Call it instincts. We had reporters lurking in the bushes. Duke had a man in car with a pair of binoculars watching his house two days later. If we don't answer our phones by the second ring, both of you are ready to send out the squad cars, and then you want to see how well we can shoot? The pair of you are being way too overprotective. You want to tell me what's going on?"

He held her closer. He should have known she'd figure it out sooner or later. "I didn't realize I was being that overprotective." He said, mentally sifting through the data in his head to find the right thing to tell her. "I know you heard about the ruling from the Supreme Court last week, the one that says Hawaii's habitual offender law is unconstitutional?"

"I remember it was on the news and that you weren't happy about it." She'd also read the story in the _Courier_. When he'd been asked to comment, all McGarrett had said was, "There's a reason we cage wild animals." The reporters had loved it and Sheriff Murphy had said that it was that type of antiquated thinking that was preventing Hawaii from taking it's rightful place in American society. What McGarrett had said about the sheriff's comment couldn't be printed in a family newspaper.

"The same decision also required expedited parole hearings for the prisoner's that have been locked up the longest. Six of them walked out of Oahu State Prison this afternoon. I sent four of them up, Duke sent two. We don't think they're going to try anything," _or at least not until after they've all got drunk_ _and got laid,_ the cold logical part of his brain said silently. "We're just taking a few added security precautions, is all. There probably isn't anything for you to worry about." _Because I'm doing enough worrying for both of us._

She reached up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for worrying about me, honey, and I really do appreciate you looking after me, but we'll be fine. Lu and I are both big girls. We even managed to survive the Gulf War. You're worrying over nothing."

What he wanted to say was _the Gulf War put you in an Army hospital for six months learning how to walk again after the docs wired your spine back together and left you with a world class case of PTSD_. He didn't, though, he just held her, cherishing how good it felt just to hold her.

* * *

Big Chicken surveyed his creation, and found that it was good. He sat behind the huge mahogany desk of the office in his new apartment of the third floor of the United Church of the Living Truth's mission on Hotel Street, close enough to the action on the street and in the Little Jungle yet far enough away to be out of the prying eyes of Five-O and HPD, going over the books and notes made by Sister Roxanne.

Roxie had not aged well. Chick thought she looked disgusting. She'd had the gall to suggest they should even resume their relationship. As if he was interested in a washed out used up loser like Roxie. He had his sights set on something a lot finer and a whole lot less shopworn.

A Cuban cigar smuggled in from Hong Kong smoldered in the ashtray. A snifter of aged cognac next to it. He was going over the ledgers and god how the money rolled in. It was truly astonishing how much cash could flow through a not for profit. It wasn't like the IRS was allowed to open the tithing envelopes brought in every Sunday and Wednesday by the working girls from Trick City. It was the same with the street dealers. They played by Chick's rules, or they didn't play at all. He had used his influence inside the prison to build up his business on the outside. It was easy enough if you knew the right people, knew which guard was having money problems or was cheating on his wife. Then he had met Reverend Leeds. The man was as twisted as a corkscrew, but he had the face, the look, and above all else the convincing air of a televangelist who had people giving until it hurt. It was Leeds idea to have the working girls 'tithe' their earnings to the church. How he loved those little envelopes stuffed with untraceable tax free cash.

He picked up one of the contact cards that Roxie had gathered from the services. Most of them went straight into the nearest garbage can. The ones for promising young talent went to Chick and the Reverend for final approval. Chick read over the card once more. Roxie was an idiot, and idiots were liabilities. He couldn't afford liabilities.

"Roxie, honey," he said, voice as oily as ever. "You are a fucking idiot. Do you ever think? You invited this girl to the mission for an interview."

"But..." Roxie stuttered. "She's gorgeous. Some sort of creole mix. Nice fresh face. She'll make bank first weekend."

"No, she won't, Roxie, and you know why. I'm going to tell you why, because you obviously don't think or you would know. She works for the goddamned _Stars and Fucking Stripes_! If she isn't a reporter than she knows a shit ton of the vultures. Get out of my sight! You're disturbing my calm."

"Think maybe you were a little too hard on her there, Charles," Reverend Leeds asked after Roxie had left.

"Please, Reverend," Chick said. "Roxie is only good for one thing, and that's an eye for the goods. Fortunately, she's trained a new girl with a better eye. One who isn't trying to recruit from the WAC corps. Is this evenings entertainment set up and ready?"

"All of it. May I voice my objection to Barker. The man's an ass. Talks way too much."

"Which is why he's such a wonderful asset. He talks so much no one listens." He picked up the new cell phone the Reverend had given him. He loved the thing. Press menu, and there was a coded list of every contact he ever needed, compact and easily destroyed by submerging in salt water. He hit Barker's number. Chick instructed him to come to his office.

Barker was tall, skinny, hairy and balding. He called himself 'Bulldog' trying to sound tougher than he really was and claimed to be a 'made' man from the East Coast mob. He had been dishonorably discharged from the Navy, a feat that was next to impossible to pull off these days. He'd been stranded in Hawaii when the woman he was shacked up with got sick of his crap and threw him out. He was always bragging about his accomplishments, whatever the hell they were. All he did was run his mouth and chase women.

"Are you ready for your night's work?" Chicken asked.

"Give the word, Reverend Rhodes. Ready when you are." Barker was eyeing Chicken's cigar. Chick wasn't in the mood for sharing.

"Good. I want it to go exactly as planned. If you get caught, well, don't get caught."

"No one's caught me yet. Tonight's a cakewalk." He turned to leave.

"Barker," Chicken said. Barker turned to face Chicken as he stood at the door. "Take Roxie with you, and don't bring her back. Good boy. I'll see you later." After Barker left, Chicken turned to the Reverend. "Bring them in."

The reverend took out his phone and spoke a few words. Five minutes later the door opened and three girls entered the room. All three were refugees from Burma. They were small, thin, and scared. They had been told they were going to America to work in a factory. Two of the girls were sisters and the third was their cousin. All were under 15 and were guaranteed to be virgins by the snakeheads who had smuggled them into the country. Chick looked them over. Perfect. When he was done they'd be sent out on the streets to recoup the money he'd paid the smugglers.

"Girls," he said, leering, "It's time to party with Uncle Chicken."


	9. Chapter 9

Saturday morning's sunrise was spectacular, as usual.

Maggie walked next to Steve by the water, her arm around his waist, long hair blowing in the breeze. A brief call to the Harbor Patrol had gotten quieter surveillance for the beach front. A small fishing boat was anchored just outside the breakwater, far enough away not to be intrusive but close enough should help be needed.

"When's your appointment at the bridal salon?" he asked. They had both crashed hard the night before. She was sleeping almost before her head hit the pillow. He'd lain awake a while longer, listening to the sounds of the ocean and the crickets in the bougainvillea, holding her as she slept.

"I'm picking Lu up at nine. Why?" she asked, giving him that naughty little half smile that went straight to his loins.

"I'll show you when we get back to the house," he said.

"Race you to the bedroom!" she ran up the path, shedding clothing as she went. He plucked her shirt from a bush and ran after her. He caught up with her at the back door, swung her off her feet, and carried her inside.

* * *

"Don't forget your phone," Steve reminded Maggie as she was getting ready to leave. "Call me every two hours, please."

"Yes, Commander," she said, bending to kiss him. He had Big Chicken's case files, dating back to the seventies, spread over the dining room table. "I had the phone on the charger all night so you don't have to worry about the battery running down. I'll be home around three."

He'd nodded and went back to his case files. She thought it was adorable when he was off in what she called the cop zone.

He heard her start the car. He heard the top go back and then Jimmy Buffett was blasting out of the speakers, the music fading as she drove down the street.

Ten minutes later he heard the Mustang pull back into the driveway, this time with no music. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up as she came back in the house, looking annoyed. She dropped her bag on the table.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked.

"Car's acting funny. The clutch was mushy when I pulled out, then the brakes, and now the brake light's on. Guess it's time to call roadside for a tow to the shop."

"Wait, what do you mean, mushy?"

"Just that, mushy. Not responsive at all. Then on the way back the clutch went down and now it won't come back up and the brake light's on. There's got to be a problem with the hydraulics. Where do you take a performance car for service on this Rock anyway?" She called Lu and told her about the problem with the car. Lu told her she'd pick her up in about half an hour.

McGarrett's warning bells were clanging loud and clear. As soon as Lu and Maggie left, he was calling Che and the lab crew to go over both cars. Only he wasn't telling her that.

"I'll take care of it, honey," he said, getting up to put his arms around her. "I know just the person to call." He held her tight, for once thankful for a narrow, winding streets on an incline that made too much speed difficult. Lu dropped by half an hour later, teased Maggie about her taste in cars, and off they went, giggling.

He waited until he knew they were out of the neighborhood before calling Che.

"I need you to get the lab boys and get to my house now. Bring the dogs."

An hour later he had his answer. Thankfully the dogs hadn't found any explosives and his car didn't seem to have been touched. Maggie's little Mustang was another story. A skinny technician with long wiry arms and a mirror had found the holes.

"What you have are small punctures in the hydraulic lines." Che said. "Not enough for a major leak, even on a car with a normal hydraulics system. You were lucky, whoever did this had no idea what he was trying to disable."

The technician had just popped the hood and was in ecstasy "Man this is a Coyote! I've only ever read about these things! Can I drive it?"

"NO," Che and McGarrett said at the same time.

"No brakes, no clutch," said Che, "It wouldn't be a whole lot of fun."

"What did you mean when you said normal hydraulics system?" McGarrett asked.

"This one's all performance. The entire power train. Engine, brakes, transmission, it's all custom. It would appear that your fiance is a bit of a speed demon. With a normal passenger car, it would have taken a few days, maybe even a week to notice the leaks. Not this one. The brakes and clutch are high tech hydraulics with a central pump located in the engine compartment. Step on the brakes or clutch the lines leak, let up, the vacuum pulls in air, the first thing that happens is the clutch gets mushy, then the brakes start to fail, enough air gets in, then total hydraulic failure. Not a problem here in the neighborhood. Worse that could have happened was a fender bender. If it were out on the Pali and doing 105, well, I don't even want to think about that."

"One time," Steve said, handing Che the keys to the Mustang, "just one time. Ever notice how cops gossip, Che? Okay, tow it to the lab, go over it with fine toothed comb, see if you can find any prints on it besides mine, hers, or Sgt Yablanski's."

Duke drove up as the driver was hooking the Mustang to the wrecker. After Susan had left to pick up Maggie he'd heard the roll out call for the lab and wanted to know what was up. Che filled him in on what they'd found.

"Looks like you had a creepy crawly last night. You didn't hear anything?" Duke asked.

"We were both exhausted. Not a thing. Her car doesn't have an alarm system and mine wasn't touched."

"That 'Stang sits, what, about a foot off the ground, if that?"

"More or less. What are you getting at?"

"I couldn't get under that car without it being jacked up and neither could you. You've got a longer reach, not that it'd do much good if you couldn't see what you were doing. I'd bet that whoever did this is one tall skinny dude."

"Good thinking, Duke. We'll make a detective out of you yet," he said, patting Duke on the back, debating whether he should ruin Danny's morning by sending him back to the computer lab to search for skinny criminals with automotive skills.

Duke's phone rang. "Lukela," he said, answering. "What! I'm at Steve's house now. On our way."

"What's up?" Steve asked.

"Surfers just found a body in the water by Wailupe Beach Park. It's Roxie Harris."

"Let's go," Steve said. "You drive, I'll make the calls."

* * *

Kono was taking a statement from one of the surfers when they drove up. According to the kid he and his buddy had just paddled out when they saw the body floating face up near the point. At first they'd thought the woman was still alive, although a closer look had proved them wrong. They'd drug the body back to the park and called HPD. One of the responding officers had recognized Roxie and called Duke. On the drive over, McGarrett had called Kono and Dan Williams, who were both out trying to catch waves about a half mile up the coast and had gotten to the park first.

"You say you didn't touch anything, just drug the body up on the beach?" Danny asked the other kid.

"We could tell she was dead. Man, I think I'm gonna be sick. I ain't surfing this beach again!" The kid was ghostly pale and looked like he was about to faint. Danny sent him over to the EMT's after getting his name and contact info.

"What have you got, Danno?" Steve asked, walking over to his surfer cops.

"What we have is Roxanne Harris, age forty-five, resident of the United Church of the Universal Truth's mission on Hotel Street. Looks like she was strangled." He flipped back the blanket the surfers had used to cover the woman's nude body. A multicolored scarf was knotted so tightly around her throat it was cutting into her skin. "So far we haven't managed to find any of her clothes, so I'm going to guess she was dumped here."

"Any idea how long she was in the water?" McGarrett asked.

"ME says not long. We'll know more when Doc has a look. He says he'll meet us at the morgue. Heard you had an intruder last night."

"Apparently. Maggie's getting an alarm installed on that little hot rod today. Well, Danno, looks like we just got our entry into the mission. Get on the horn to John Manicote, get me warrants to search anywhere she may have frequented at both the church and the mission."

"Think you're going to find anything?"

"Probably not, but it'll be fun to watch them sweat."

The morning air was split by the sound of sirens blaring as two SUV's from the sheriff's office roared into the park. Sheriff Augustus Murphy and his cadre of deputies and photographers poured out of the vehicles and stormed across the beach, ignoring the crime scene tape strung across the sand.

"Hey, Brudah," Kono shouted, "you walkin' through a crime scene. Back off."

Murphy crossed over to McGarrett, ignoring Kono and any evidence that he could have been treading on. He was wearing one of his custom tailored uniforms while McGarret was wearing jeans, an Aloha shirt that Maggie had threatened to burn and a light jacket to cover the service revolver in it's shoulder holster. "McGarrett, this isn't your jurisdiction. We'll take over from here."

"Sheriff," Steve said, calmly and evenly as if addressing a not very bright child, "have you ever bothered to read Five-O's charter? Every inch of every island in this state is my jurisdiction, and that includes everything this side of international waters."

Murphy's face was turning red. In every script he'd ever read the state cops always backed down when the word 'jurisdiction' was thrown about. "Very well, then. It appears we'll be working together, at least until I get a clarification from the governor as to exactly where your jurisdiction runs. I need to see the body."

"Be my guest. Just don't touch anything."

Murphy swaggered over to where the ME's were loading Roxie's body on the gurney. They unzipped the body bag so he could get a good look.

Kono was annoyed. He didn't like Murphy, or his tactics and he certainly wasn't happy with having his crime scene trod on. One of Murphy's deputies, a tall, skinny man wearing dark glasses, looked familiar. Kono stared at the man until he made the connection. He crossed the sand, carefully avoiding the taped off crime scene area, to where the man was standing near Murphy.

"I thought I told you I never wanted to see your sorry ass on this Island again, Mister," he said, staring straight into the demented eyes of one John Hardin, formerly of the United States Army.

"Too bad," Hardin said. "I'm the sheriff's new public information officer. From now on I'm responsible for what information we release to Five-O. That could get real scarce, if you know what I mean."

Kono, crooked his fingers at Hardin, gesturing for him to come nearer. Hardin, with the bravado of one who knows he has backup and people covering his ass, came forward. Kono put an arm around Hardin's shoulder, tightening it just enough to force Hardin to follow his directions.

"You see that tall man over there in that real bright Aloha shirt? That the Big Man at Five-O. You do not want to start no trouble with him. You do, you gone be one sad haole. You need to stay as far away from him as you can. He know what you did to Little Miss _Menehune_ and he ain't happy about it, you dig?" He released Hardin, giving him a shove that sent him sprawling on his butt into the sand.

Duke walked over to Kono. "What was that all about, Brudah?" he asked in Hawaiian.

"I'll tell you later. Just keep an eye on the creep. Names John Hardin. Your lady know him, too." Kono replied, also in Hawaiian. If looks could have killed, the one that Hardin was giving them as he brushed the sand from his uniform would have done them both in. "He use to be stationed at Ft Shafter. He don't know how to treat women."

Duke nodded thoughtfully. Susan had told him all about he former first sergeant. Add one more variable into the mix. This case was getting stranger by the day. Steve called him over to tell him that he would catch a ride to the morgue and to the crime lab with Danny. Kono volunteered to stay at the crime scene to make sure that none of Murphy's posse messed anything up. Duke considered borrowing Kono's long board and catching a few waves. He hadn't been surfing since his before his wife had passed away. Now he felt the ocean calling. He called his son, who had the same idea and agreed to bring the boards stashed in the garage to the park. Time to ride the waves. Time on the water always cleared his head and helped him think.

* * *

McGarrett and Williams made it to the lab just as Doc Bergman was finishing up the preliminary exam of Roxanne Harris's body.

"What have you got?" McGarrett asked?

"She didn't drown, if that's what you're getting at," Bergman said. "She was strangled, probably from behind, and since there don't appear to be any defensive bruises anywhere on her body, I'd say she was either surprised, or she knew who did it."

"Any signs of sexual trauma?" Danny asked.

"Not that I can tell without a further exam. I'll know more when I'm done with the autopsy."

"I'm wondering why she wasn't washed out to sea," McGarrett said, "there's some pretty strong currents off that point and the surf was fairly high."

"Size Double 'D' personal flotation devices." Doc said.

"Come again?" McGarrett asked.

"Breast implants, Steve. That's how the body was staying afloat and not pulled under. Whoever dumped her off the point didn't take that into consideration."

"Doc," Steve said, "Do you ever get the feeling the world's changing way to damned fast?"

"It's certainly making my life more interesting."

"Can we get the scarf for the lab now or do we need to wait?" Danny asked.

"Sure," Doc said, cutting the scarf from Roxie's neck with a pair of surgical scissors to preserve the knot. "Well, look at that, it seems your strangler left you a souvenir." He pointed to where a short dark hair was trapped in the knot. He carefully tucked the scarf and the hair into an evidence bag.

They had physical evidence, now all they had to do was find the killer. McGarrett had a good idea where to start looking.

* * *

Che was waiting for them at the crime lab. Danny handed him the bag with the scarf. Che removed the scarf and then carefully pulled the hair from the knot with a pair of tweezers. He fixed it on a microscopic slide, and then placed it under the microscope. He examined the hair closely, then went to a stronger projection scope. A hugely magnified image appeared on the screen.

"This appears to be a body hair, probably off someone's arm or chest, and I'm going to say it's from a male. You're not going to like what I'm about to tell you, Steve." Che said, looking worried.

"The only thing that I've heard this week that I've liked is Maggie finally set a wedding date. Why break a winning streak? Lay it out, Che."

"When we went over the Mustang we found assorted hair samples. Short dark brown one's that probably belong to you, long silver ones that I know are hers, and blonde wavy ones that I'm fairly sure belong to Sgt Yablanski, and from underneath, this one." Che inserted the slide into the viewer, aligning it with the one already there. They were a perfect match. "This hair was wedged between the brake line and coupling. It's a miracle it survived the tow over. Whoever put the holes in Maggie's brake lines is the same person who killed Roxie Harris. I'm sure of it."

McGarrett felt as if he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "Okay," he said. "Get someone over from the motorpool. Have them install the same alarm system on that Mustang that's on all Five-O cars. See if you can do anything about that damned ragtop. I know those are next to impossible to alarm. Get them to fix the brake lines while they're at it. Have them send me the bill. Maggie's going to want to know when she can get her car back. Any idea?"

"I'd say Monday afternoon, at the latest," Che said.

"Good, thanks Che. Danno, it's time to put on the suits. Drop me off at home, get changed,and pick up the warrants from the DA's office. We've got work to do."

"You got it. I think we just got enough evidence to toss that place top to bottom."

"That's the plan. We're going to need HPD for this one. Sorry, Brudah, I know the surf was going to be good today."

"There's always tomorrow." Danny said.

"Hopefully not for Chicken. Let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

Three hours later, they were ready for the raid.

McGarrett had the warrants for both the church and the mission. HPD was suited up and ready to roll as soon as the SWAT teams and Special Operations were in place.

Compton and Marks walked into the controlled chaos of the Five-O offices, wondering why they had been summoned.

"You wanted to see us, sir?" Marks asked.

"Go to my house," McGarrett said. "Make sure no one comes or goes without checking with me first. Sgt Alden and Sgt Yablanski will be there. Don't let them leave and don't let them out of your sight. Stay with them until either Sgt Lukela or I get there. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Compton said. "We'll keep the media out of the bushes."

Duke was shouting into his phone. "Do not argue with me about this, Susan Louise Yablanski! You go to Steve's house and you stay there until I come for you! I swear you are the most hard headed women I have ever met!" He snapped the phone closed and caught sight of the two HPD patrol officers. "What the hell are you two doing standing there? You've got your orders! Go!" He'd had about an hour of surf time when all hell had broken loose. After physical evidence had tied Roxie's murder to the holes in Maggie's brake lines he'd put his kids on a plane to his niece's place at Hilo on the Big Island with orders to stay there until the case was resolved. The kids would be safe on Hilo. Now all he had to do was convince one very stubborn women to stay put. He was in no mood to deal with slow responders.

"Yes, sir," they said together, wondering what was going down. Sgt Lukela seldom raised his voice to anyone, especially a female, and he had just yelled at a woman that both officers openly admitted to being terrified of. They got out of there while the getting was good.

McGarrett would have thought the whole conversation surreal if he hadn't just had a very similar one with Maggie.

"Duke, you and Kono have the church. Danno, Chin, and I have the mission. SWAT and Special Operations will be in place at 1445. We serve paper at 1500. We hit quiet and we hit quick. No lights, no sirens, and as little noise as possible. We don't know how many people are at either location so be ready for anything. That means vests and helmets. Let's go, and for God's sake, be careful."

* * *

Compton and Marks, in a very visible blue and white HPD squad car with the lights flashing were waiting by the driveway. After Lu parked her little red Nissan Sentra, Marks parked directly behind her.

"Look, Maggie," Lu said, a bit disgruntled. "Our babysitters are younger than we are."

Compton had been active duty during the Gulf War and had transferred to the Reserves afterward. Marks was National Guard. They were finding themselves in a quandary, stuck between their superiors at HPD and two very senior active duty female non-coms. It was shaping up to be a long night.

"Come on inside, you two," Maggie said. "Might as well get comfortable. You can help carry stuff in."

Lu popped the trunk. It was filled with shopping bags.

Marks turned to Compton. "I guess this beats getting shot at on a raid."

"Speak for yourself," Compton grumbled.

"Be nice," Maggie said. "I've got an idea. Let's call the Thompson's and we can have a hen party."

Compton looked like he might faint. "Sorry, Sergeant. We've got orders from both Mr. McGarrett and Sgt Lukela. No visitors and you are to stay inside."

"What's up with those two?" Lu asked. "They're both acting like a pair of mother hens."

"Can't say, ma'am." Marks said. "Let's get inside, please?"

After Maggie unlocked the door, Compton went in, gun drawn and checked all the rooms and closets, upstairs and down. Maggie and Lu just looked at each other.

Cops and robbers had gotten a little too real.

* * *

Murphy was angry. The sheriff's gig wasn't going as planned. People were expecting him to do things. They wanted drug dealers arrested and hookers off the street. When he had agreed to run for office, it was with the understanding that all he had to do was show up in a tailored uniform and make speeches while the real work was done by the deputies. All he had to do was listen to a few trusted advisers and watch his campaign coffers swell. There was a multi year plan in place. Serve four years as sheriff, help elect a new governor, then McGarrett's job would be his. He was looking forward to redecorating the office at Iolani Palace. All that Navy nonsense had to go.

Only it wasn't working out as he'd hoped. That damned Mick was everywhere. And if he wasn't tripping over McGarrett, that damned Hawaiian street cop was in the way. This was not what he had signed up for. He'd signed up to look good for the press and get his picture in the paper. That part was true enough. Earlier that month his picture had been all over the paper, usually next to a photograph of that red haired bitch, Dolly, the Rhodesian Ridgeback who had cracked the case of the Blue Moon Murders wide open with her wet, black nose.

No matter. He could read a script with the best of them, and what was politics but a strange play. He had his photographers and videographers standing by. His public information officer had been briefed. McGarrett and his crew were going down. He'd see to it. Act two was about to begin.

* * *

McGarrett checked his watch and surveyed the street. In ten minutes he would give the order to close down the block of Hotel Street that contained the mission. He had enough firepower at his command to take down a small country. The rooftops of the surrounding buildings were bristling with SWAT officers carrying automatic weapons. HPD riot police were standing by, just in case. He checked his watch again, 1445. Fifteen minutes to go. He was ready for anything.

Except stupidity.

"What the hell?" he asked as the first sirens sounded. He grabbed the rover unit from the nearest HPD officer. "Who the hell's got that siren on? Shut it down! NOW!"

The siren was coming closer, and there were more of them. Sheriff Murphy and four SUV's filled with deputies and photographers screeched to a halt in front of the mission.

From the radio, McGarrett heard Kono and Duke shouting at someone to turn the sirens off, although judging from the siren wails coming across the airwaves, they were being ignored.

Murphy strutted across the street to where McGarrett had set up the command post. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.

McGarrett was momentarily speechless. Danny and Chin quietly moved in behind him, if for no other reason than to keep him from killing the sheriff. Small bets were being placed between the assembled officers on how long it'd be before McGarrett decked Murphy.

"We were serving a warrant. You just tipped off everyone in that building to our presence. Now they've got time to destroy evidence and run. Have you lost your damned mind? Get the hell out of here and let the professionals do their jobs!"

"I am a professional!" Murphy shouted.

"No," McGarrett shouted back, catching the sheriff with a right hook to the jaw that put Murphy on his back in the middle of the street, "you're a pain in the ass! Chin, cuff him! I want him booked for interfering with a police investigation and obstruction of justice."

He got back on the rover. "Kono, Duke, hit 'em now. Any deputy sheriff gets in your way, arrest them!"

"Danno, you ready?" McGarrett asked, drawing his service revolver.

"Ready when you are," he said. It was bad enough he'd missed today's surf, now he was having to deal with Murphy and his posse.

"Let's go. Any of Murphy's people get in the way, arrest 'em, with extreme prejudice."

They ran across the street behind a phalanx of riot police with shields up and a battering ram that wasn't needed because the doors were already open. Police officers fanned out through the building.

"Good afternoon, Mr. McGarrett," the Reverend Leeds said, giving his best televangelist smile. He was a big man, standing just under six foot four with a stocky build and a headfull of carefully coiffed salt and pepper hair. "I trust you have a reason for this intrusion?"

McGarrett holstered his weapon and took the warrant from his jacket. He handed it to the reverend who glanced at it and passed it to the man standing next to him. McGarrett recognized him as the lawyer from Chicken's interview.

"It seems to be in order," the lawyer said. "Although it has a very broad scope. I see no reason for you to subpoena our books."

"Standard procedure when the bookkeeper meets with a bad end. You have one Roxanne Harris listed on your incorporation papers as your CFO and chief accountant."

"What do you mean, bad end?" asked the lawyer.

"You didn't know, did you," McGarrett said. "The lawyer's always the last to know. She was found floating off Wailupe Point this morning. She's dead."

"I shall pray for her soul," said the Reverend.

"Where's Big Chicken?" McGarrett demanded.

"Who?" asked the Reverend.

"He's gone, isn't he? Your buddy the sheriff gave him enough time to disappear, leaving you holding the bag. Danno, seal this Island. No one leaves without us knowing who they are and where they're going. Call the FFA and the Coast Guard. I want to know who's piloting anything flying or floating and put out an APB on Chicken. I suspect he flew the coop the second he heard the sirens. When you're done with that, book this charlatan for murder."

One of the officers brought him a bullhorn. He switched it on, smiling as he did. Later on Reverend Leeds would remark that he'd once watched a program on the nature channel where he'd seen a great white with the same predatory smile.

"Listen up, people. I want this place searched. Thoroughly. Basement to rooftop and I don't care how many holes you have to put in the walls to do it!"

McGarrett's cell phone rang. Duke was calling to tell him they'd found the church deserted.

"Not a person on the premises. It's like they abandoned ship when they heard the sirens."

"Search the place. Then seal it and put guards on it. No one else goes back in."

"You got it. We looking for anything specific?"

"Yeah, everything." He hung up.

Danny returned from stowing the reverend in a squad car. He heard a shout from one of the officers searching the basement followed by high pitched screams and ran down the stairs. Ten minutes later a pale and grim faced Danny came back up. "Steve, you need to see this." he said quietly.

Steve followed Danny down the stairs. "Sgt Kimora found 'em. He brushed against a wall and heard crying. He kicked through the sheetrock and this is what he found. Ambulances and child welfare are on the way."

Three girls of Asian descent huddled in the corner, bruised and bloody, clothes torn, their eyes wide with fear and pain.

One of the female officers was attempting to comfort the girls.

"The male officers couldn't get near them." Danny said.

"They're children," McGarrett said, sickened by what he was seeing. "No English?"

"That would be to easy."

"Get some more female officers down here. Call the university, have them send an expert on Asian dialects to Queens hospital, preferably a woman, but we'll take what we can get."

Chin called, letting him know he'd found the mission's business office and their books, as well as a wall safe.

"Excellent," McGarrett said. "Call Che, have him send the lab boys."

"Will do, only that ain't all we found. You need to get a peek at the second floor. I already called Sandy in. She's not a happy girl."

"On my way," he said. There were frantic calls over the rover unit, requesting more female officers and for anyone who spoke Tagalog and various other Asian dialects.

On his way up the stairs he nearly collided with Sergeant Sandra Wells, who was now a detective specializing in human trafficking cases. "Mr. McGarrett," she said, "I've never seen it this bad before." Her face was pale and she looked a little green. "There are at least a dozen girls up there, all of them traumatized, and all of them extremely underage. Every time I try to go near one of them, they start screaming."

"I think it's your hair, honey," he said. "I have a feeling those girls have a problem with blondes. Put on a scarf and do your job." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. She was one of the few female officers he knew that would allow that. They went back way too long.

She nodded and went to find a scarf. A few minutes later, she was back, determined to do her job.

"Sandy," he said, "there are three young Asian girls in the basement. They've been... injured. I want them in protective custody and not deported. You understand?"

"Yes, sir," she said. "How old."

He shook his head. "Not very. And Sandy, make sure the hospital does rape kits on all three."

She didn't say anything, just sighed and went downstairs.

McGarrett found Chin on the third floor. Most of the floor was taken up by luxury accommodations for the Reverend, Chicken, Roxie, and their VIP clients. Chin was loading every paper file he could find into boxes and was sealing them with Five-O tags. This was one operation where he didn't want the lawyers disputing any of the chain of evidence.

McGarrett pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and opened the ledger Chin handed him. Neat rows of figures, with names and amounts were entered into the book, along with deductions for food, lodging, clothes, and an infinity of other items that were designed to keep the women in debt to their trafficker.

"You go by the amounts they got on that ledger, the poor girls will never get free. Look, boss, some of the girls are Chinese. I can tell by the names. If it's okay by you, I'd like to help with the girls."

McGarrett knew that Chin's calm, fatherly demeanor could work wonders with frightened children. "Go ahead. The lab boys can finish packing the rest of this up."

Danny came up a few minutes later. "Sandy has gone to Queens with the kids we found in the basement. I'd like to head that direction, too, unless you need me here."

"Go ahead. It's going to be bedlam there when the rest of the girls start showing up."

"Yeah. I think about every country in Asia is represented, or at least the ones with surplus daughters."

"I'm going back to Iolani. Before you leave arrange with HPD to have the good reverend brought to my office. I'll even let him bring his lawyer along."

"Feeling the need of a little prayer?"

"One of us is going to be praying."

"What about the sheriff?"

"What about him? I think he's fine right where he is. He shouldn't be able to cause much trouble in a holding cell."

Danny nodded and left. He almost felt sorry for the Reverend and the Sheriff. Almost.

* * *

As guard duty went, Compton conceded, this one wasn't so bad. At least they were getting fed and were inside out of the elements. True, every half hour one of them would have to go outside to check the perimeter, but so far the only thing they'd spooked out of the bushes was a mongoose.

Maggie's cell phone rang at seven. She was relieved when she saw Steve's name pop up on the caller ID. There had been a brief blurb about the raid on the six o'clock news with the promise of more coverage at eleven. She'd been anxious since."Hey, hon," she said. "You still at work."

"Yes, and I'm going to be here for while. How's my girl?"

"Waiting for you to explain all this."

"When I get time. Put Compton on the phone a minute, please."

"Sure, hold on." She passed the phone over. "Hey, Robbie, the Big Man wants to talk to you."

Robbie listened, nodded, and said 'yes sir' before passing the phone back to Maggie.

"Sweetie," Steve said. "He's going to ask for some things in a minute. Give them to him."

"Okay," she said, "You know, you are not making a whole lot of sense right now."

"I know, baby. All in good time. Let Lu know Duke's okay and he'll call as soon as their location is secure. I love you and I will see you when I get home."

"Love you, too," she said closing the phone. "Okay, Robbie, what is it I'm suppose to give you?"

To his credit, Compton looked both miserable and embarrassed.

"The .45 and the ammo that's in the nightstand, the riot gun that's attached to the bed frame, the shotgun shells that are in the bottom dresser drawer, and the Mac-10 that's mounted to the underside of the dining room table. The ammo for that one's in the bottom desk drawer. All the guns are loaded and on safe but be careful anyway. Sorry. He said you didn't know about all the guns."

"I knew about the .45. Is that all the firepower? I suspect there's more."

"If there is he didn't mention it."

"Any word from Duke?" Lu asked.

"Sorry, hon," Maggie said, "he's fine and will call as soon as his location is secure, whatever the hell that means."

Lu didn't know it was possible to be so relieved. "Thank the gods. That man has done something to me."

Maggie raised an eyebrow. "More details?" she asked, hopefully. After spending the weekend at Duke's house Lu had been in an exceptionally good mood. When asked why she'd smiled and said she had met an Hawaiian sex god.

Neither Compton or Marks wanted to hear 'details' from either of those women. Some things they did not want to even think about.

"Can we get the guns now, please?" Marks asked.

"This way, kids," Maggie said. She got the .45 and the ammo while Compton took out the riot gun and Marks secured the Mac-10.

Compton was a military armorer and familiar with all the weapons. He gave Marks a crash course on how to handle the Mac-10 before Marks decided to stick with the shotgun.

"Mr. McGarrett said that both you ladies know how to use a .45 and that Sgt Yablanski is suppose to have one in her bag." Compton said.

Maggie looked at Lu, both eyebrows raised this time. "It's under the front seat. One of you can go fetch it." Lu tossed her car keys to Marks.

"Lu," Maggie said. "Where'd you get a .45?"

"It's Duke's. He thought I needed some extra protection after he caught the guy watching the house. You get a concealed carry permit, too?"

"Yepper. Like the military trusts us grunts with guns on post. I'm for the showers and my pj's. How about you?"

"Same here. Then we can watch chick flicks and paint each other's toe nails. I don't suppose you have a pair of pj's I can borrow that won't look like short shorts?"

"You can borrow some of Steve's, you're almost as tall as he is. This is his idea anyway; he'll get over it."

Marks came back with the .45. Maggie and Lu retreated to the bedroom. She was getting ready to open the sliding doors when there was a knock at the bedroom door. "Mr. McGarrett said don't even think about leaving those doors open tonight." Compton said through the closed door.

"That man knows you too well," Lu said.

Maggie just shook her head. Men!

* * *

Big Chicken was happily eating his way through a second carton of sweet and sour pork from the Chinese take-out joint across the street. He and two of his cronies were holed up in an empty warehouse that would soon be filled with cheap toys and decorations for the Christmas season. The warehouse and all it's import permits were owned through a shell corporation that could eventually be traced back to man named William Blake Hudson and good luck finding that gentleman. All those lovely import permits and cheap goods made smuggling in the real goods a breeze.

Chicken had learned a few things while in prison. The one lesson that had stuck was that when people are are desperate enough, there is money to be made. From his prison cell he had used his old connections in the drug trade to set up a network where humans were bought and sold on an open market. It was easy. Tell the parents you're looking for factory workers for the US and they'd jump at the few hundred dollars you were offering for their daughters and occasionally for their younger sons. Load the kids on a boat, hide them with the containerized cargo, and bring them in under the very noses of the Navy, Coast Guard, and customs. Easier than smuggling drugs, because the goods cooperated. Or at least until they found out what their final destination was and what they were expected to do to earn their keep. Chicken had made a fortune, most of it hidden in offshore banks, laundered through the United Church of the Universal Truth, in this case, the universal truth being that money buys a lot of influence and a whole lot of looking the other way.

He hadn't intended to stay in the Island's long. He had passage on a ship leaving port Friday morning, bound for Thailand. He had planned on hanging out at the mission just long enough to lull his probation officer and the police into thinking he had indeed reformed. A pre-arranged signal from the Sheriff's office had alerted him to the raid on the mission. He was going to have to make another very sizable contribution to Sheriff Murphy's campaign fund. That man would do anything for a headline.

Now he was sitting back, biding his time, waiting for just the right moment. He knew his latest targets were inaccessible where they were. It didn't matter. Eventually they would have to leave the house. The uniforms they wore made them easy to spot and the difference in height made them stand out wherever they went.

He'd nearly gone into spasms of ecstasy when he found out the tall one was seeing HPD Sergeant Duke Lukela. Chick had had one run in with a very young Patrolman Lukela years earlier that had resulted in his third felony conviction, thus making him a prime candidate for habitual offender status. Collins, the man holding the sawed off shotgun while guarding the door, had been sent up by Lukela under that same statute. A minor drug violation and a charge of assaulting a police officer had earned him a life sentence. Collins, like Chick, had spent his days in confinement bettering himself and plotting revenge. He was now Chick's second in command and all around errand boy.

McGarrett and Lukela, Chicken mused, both described as incorruptible.

But not untouchable.

Barker slurped his noodles, causing Chick to shudder. The man was an ass, but he did have his uses. No matter, he was expendable, and too stupid to know it.

When they were done, so was Barker.

Barker was excess baggage.

They would have to leave quickly and travel light, as if there were hellhounds at their heels.

Because there would be.


	11. Chapter 11

Reverend Leeds was not having a good day. He sat facing McGarrett, Duke Lukela on one side, Kono on the other, just in case he misunderstood that he wasn't allowed to leave. His lawyer, David Smithfield, formerly of the ACLU, now of the firm Lake, Toshi, and Smithfield, sat in the chair next to the Reverend, trying to keep the man quiet. Reverend Leeds, who had a long career based on knowing when silence was not golden, was mentally pondering the alternatives. The alternative being that Charles Arthur Rhodes could be on his way to Thailand by now, while McGarrett was glaring at him from six feet away.

McGarrett slapped the file folder down on his desk. Leeds jumped at the noise.

"I have seen all sorts of cons, crooks, and charlatans in my day, Mr. Leeds, but, you, you take the prize. Or should I say, you, Mr. Hudson, take the prize?"

Leeds paled. It had been years since anyone had tied any of his alter egos to his real identity. "How?" he managed to get out.

"Computers, Mr. Hudson. Those machines are making it so much easier to track down things that people would dearly love to stay hidden. All you have to do is give that Iron, no, Silicon Brain the right search parameters and wait for the answers. What it told us about you, Mr. Hudson, is that not only are you a charlatan and a crook, but a coward and a fink."

"No need to get personal, Mr. McGarrett," Leeds said. "My record speaks for itself. I am ready to cooperate fully with your investigation."

McGarrett stood up, pacing in circles around the desk. It was a tactic that usually had the suspect ready to jump out of their own skin in minutes. Leeds just sat there.

McGarrett returned to his desk and sat down, leaning forward to glare at Leeds. "I know that thus far you've managed to escape jail time by rolling over on every last partner in crime you've ever had and turning state's evidence. Not this time. This time you are going to jail. Where and for how long depends on how you answer the next few questions. You got that?"

"You don't have to answer anything, Mr. Leeds." Smithfield said. "I'm advising you now to..."

"Shut up, Smithfield." Leeds said. "I know enough about you to get you permanently disbarred."

Smithfield shut up. "May I leave?" he asked.

"Yes, but don't plan on taking any sudden trips," McGarrett said. Smithfield left as swiftly as dignity allowed.

"Mr. Hudson, you have been advised of your rights and have waived your right to remain silent and are aware that this interview is being recorded. Do you understand and agree with that statement?"

"Yes. And I expected as much. From what I've learned about you, Mr. McGarrett, is that Five-O doesn't like to lose."

"As of now, I've got enough proof to charge you with conspiracy in the murder of Roxanne Harris and the attempted murder of Sergeant First Class Margaret Alden." McGarrett said, throwing out a very slender thread of hope to Leeds. "I've read you record, Mr. Hudson. All of it. You may be a liar and a thief and a con man, but you're no killer. Only you made a mistake and got involved with Big Chicken. How much was your percentage of the take?"

"Not as much as you'd think. I only got ten percent."

"Only ten percent? Ten percent of the money and you get left to take one hundred percent of the blame. We found enough ketamine at the mission to knock out every horse on this island. Any idea what that was used for?"

"No, Mr. McGarrett, I'm not familiar with the term."

"It's a sedative. For livestock. Apparently it was being used to control the girls smuggled in to work as prostitutes. What did you do? Drug them when they refused?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. McGarrett."

McGarrett slammed his fist down on the desk. "Yes, you do. Do you know what DNA is?"

"Some sort of genetic material, is my best guess."

"Yeah," said McGarrett, "Genetic material. Unique genetic material. I've got some whiz kids down in the lab who can take one cell and match it up to the only human being on this earth that it could have originated from. I've got three very young girls down at Queen's hospital right now. We found them in the basement of your mission, bruised, bloody, and terrified. If I find one scrap, one iota, of DNA from you on any one of those children, all bets are off."

"Let me re-assure you, I had nothing to do with that."

"No," McGarrett said. "But you let it happen. You knew it was going on and you didn't do a damned thing to stop it because your kind never does and that makes you just as guilty. You collected your ten percent and ignored everything else and when it went bad you were going to do what you always do, sell out your partners, change you name, and run. Not this time, Mr. Hudson. The only thing you're going to hope to salvage out of all this is a stay in a better prison."

"What would you like to know, Mr. McGarrett?" Leeds said, resigned. He had enough money stashed in offshore accounts to buy a new life when his sentence was over. Maybe it was time to get out of the religion racket.

"I'm going to give you a description. You're going to give me the name of who it belongs to. If you lie to me, the phrase hard time is going to get a whole new definition."

Leeds nodded.

"Tall, skinny, dark hair, probably has long thin arms. Knows just enough about cars to get into some serious trouble. Ring any bells?"

"Barker. You've just described Barker."

"Who is Barker?" McGarrett asked.

"A useful idiot," Leeds replied. "Thinks he knows everything and never shuts up. He got a DD from the Navy. Claimed he was a Seal who killed his team leader. Of course no one believed him."

"What's his first name?"

"I haven't a clue. I truly wasn't that interested. He wanted everyone to call him Bulldog, thought it made him sound hard. He kept trying to convince us he was a made man from the East coast mob."

"Where is he?"

"He took off when Sheriff Murphy gave us the heads up."

Duke, Kono, and McGarrett all exchanged glances.

"What do you mean, when the sheriff gave you the heads up?" Duke asked in the calm, even voice he was famous for.

"It was all pre-arranged when Rhodes got out. Rhodes said that the police were going to do their best to send him back to jail. Enough money to the sheriff's campaign fund got a lot of protection. When the word went out about the raid, the sheriff kindly intervened. It gave Rhodes and his friends time to escape out the back way while Murphy was causing a scene out front."

"What friends were those?" McGarrett asked.

"The only two who could tolerate being around Rhodes for more than ten minutes. Barker and Frank Collins."

"Do you have any idea where they went?" Duke asked. Frank Collins was all around bad news.

"No, I don't. All I know is Rhodes is planning on disappearing off this Island as soon as he takes care of what he's been calling 'unfinished business,' whatever that means."

"You don't know?" McGarrett demanded.

"No, and I wasn't going to ask either. I'm going to hazard a guess it's got something to do with those two WAC sergeants. Rhodes is obsessed with those two."

Duke didn't say anything, just reached down, grabbed Leeds by the lapels and lifted him out of the chair. "What two WAC sergeants and what do you mean by obsessed?" he said in a quiet even tone that sent chills up the phony reverend's spine.

"Enough, Duke!" McGarrett said. Duke let go, dropping Leeds back into the chair. "Mr. Hudson, if you have any idea what Rhodes is planning, you need to tell us, because if anything happens to either of those women, I will personally see that you live to regret it."

"All I know is he found this picture in the paper. You and the little one at some sort of party at the governor's. Had me hire a PI to find out who she was. Had her followed for a couple of months. High dollar surveillance too and I've got the bills to prove it. Then he found out the tall one was seeing that other cop and you'd have thought he'd hit the lottery. He had her followed, too. And that redheaded sailor. He was annoyed when he found out she was out of state. He wanted all of them under surveillance. I have no idea why." Recognition dawned on Leeds when he saw the look in Duke's eyes. "Oh, my God! It's you, isn't it? The other cop?"

"Yeah, it's me alright, Brudah. Because I sent that creep up on the felony that gave him repeat offender status." Duke said. "Busted him for the sell and distribution of narcotics to underage kids. That was before you got him sent up for receiving stolen property, Steve. I was still a rookie on probation."

McGarrett nodded in agreement. Duke Lukela had came out of the academy with a sense of duty that was damned near fanatical. As he recalled, Duke's hair had been turning silver even then. "Why was Rhodes having Sgt Alden and Sgt Yablanski followed?"

"I don't know. He said you needed to know your enemy. It started out with just the little one then he found out her friend was seeing that Hawaiian cop and it got worse. Said they were insurance. Insurance for what he never said. Maybe he's going to use them to get safe passage off this island. I didn't ask. He didn't tell. The less I knew, the better I liked it."

"Who was the PI?"

"Pacific Security and Investigations. They're on Maui. Rhodes didn't want to use local talent, in case they got caught."

"But they did get caught. Because he wanted then to. To see how close they could get without setting off the alarms. One thing puzzles me, though. If the women were insurance, why put holes in that Mustang's brake lines? She could have been killed!"

"No, no," Leeds stammered. "It wasn't intended to hurt her, just disable the car. She'd be stuck out in the open, away from home, with any luck with that big blonde friend of hers. Easy to get to. It didn't work out that way. Barker screwed up."

"No, Mr. Hudson, he didn't," McGarrett said softly. "He didn't know what he was trying to disable, or that Sgt Alden knows that car inside and out. It took her about ten minutes to know something was wrong and go back home. Kono, get him out of here. Put him in a holding cell and call the DA. Get me a warrant for Pacific PI's files. I want that surveillance report. See if you can find out more about Barker. Check with the Navy first. Look for anyone by that name with a DD. Then let Manicote know the good Reverend is ready for confession. I hope he didn't have any plans for the night."

"For 'dis, he'll cancel them." The big Hawaiian smiled, lighting up the room, "Look like we gone get rid of 'dat idiot sheriff. Come on, Rev. Time to go make a statement."

Danny, accompanied by a deputy sheriff, came in as Kono was leading the reverend out.

"Steve, we've got a problem." Danny said. He was holding what looked like a warrant.

"Do your duty, officer," the deputy demanded. "Arrest that man!"

McGarrett just stared at the deputy. The man looked familiar. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"I am the Honolulu Sheriff's Public Information Officer."

"And you are here to do what?"

"You are under arrest for assaulting Sheriff Murphy. In front of witnesses. And on camera."

"Really? I didn't know he cared. Danno, who signed that warrant?"

"Judge Ito on Molokai. The warrant was transmitted by fax. He couldn't find a judge here willing to sign off on it." Danny said. "You want it?"

"Save it for the scrapbook. Deputy, I don't have time to be arrested right now, as I have more pressing matters to attend to. Call my secretary Monday and we can arrange something for next week, say around Thursday?"

"This is no joke, McGarrett! The tape of you hitting the sheriff is all over the news channels."

"I suspect it is, Deputy. What did you say your name was anyway?"

"Hardin, John Hardin. I'm the new..."

"Yes," McGarrett said, his eyes turning a cold ice blue. "I know who you are and I know what you are and if you don't get out of my office I'm going to throw you out." He said, getting up and coming around the desk to stand in front of Hardin. They were approximately the same height, but McGarrett had at least forty pounds of lean, hard muscle mass on the skinny deputy.

"Duke, could you open the doors to the lanai, please?" he asked in a calm, icy cold voice.

Duke opened the doors, letting in the cool evening breeze.

"You wouldn't." Hardin said.

"Try me," McGarrett said. "The next time one of my officers tells you to never set foot on this Rock again, you better listen. Duke, put that moron in a holding cell until we can get him a flight back to the mainland. When you're done there, call your girlfriend. She's probably worried."

McGarrett stepped out on the lanai. After talking to both Leeds and the deputy, he was badly in need of fresh air. Danny had the same idea and joined him. "What did you find out at the hospital, Danno?" he asked.

"Stuff that's going to give me nightmares for weeks. I'm not feeling sorry for Roxie anymore, that's for sure. Found her passport. She's been flying all over the Pacific, recruiting. She'd go to impoverished villages with offers of factory work for the young girls. She'd give the parents a few hundred bucks, load the kids onto a container ship and bring them in like cargo. There's a whole damned network out there smuggling these kids in for the sex trade. The kids get here, they find out they're in debt to the trafficker for everything from transport to room and board. They're drugged and starved until they comply. Once they're trained, they're shipped all over the world. We're going to need an entire new division to handle the caseload we're about to get."

"What about the girls in the basement?" McGarrett asked, dreading the answer he was about to receive.

"All three were sexually assaulted," Danny said, face pale with rage. "Multiple times by at least three different people. Got lots of DNA. We finally found a translator who could understand their language. They're from a small tribe in the south of Burma. Two sisters and a cousin. The trafficker told them their parents would be killed if they didn't comply. Sandy has probably taught them a few new English words that I didn't know she knew. That is one very angry woman."

"Yes, but a smart one. Make sure she gets everything she needs for the investigation."

"Will do. Anything else?"

"Convince two female army sergeants they need police protection."

"Sorry, boss. I'll let you and Duke handle that one. I'd rather face a pack of rabid pit bulls with pissed off geese for backup." Danny patted Steve on the back. "I'm off to the lab to see what other goodies they've managed to turn up. You planning on going home tonight?"

"Eventually."

Danny left McGarrett standing on the lanai, looking out over the lights of the city. Somewhere, out past the city lights to the south was the darkness of the open water. _It's time,_ he thought, _time to start thinking about the future. Time to bring Five-O into the next century. And when I'm done with that, when it's working the way it should work, it's time to retire._ He hadn't told Maggie yet, but the day after she had filed retirement papers for the Army, he'd filed his for the Navy Reserve. At the end of the year, the day after his birthday, he'd be done with the Navy.

He went back to his desk. There was still much to be done.

* * *

It had been a long night. Compton and Marks were ready to go home. Maggie and Lu were semi-dozing at opposite ends of the sofa, refusing to go to bed until McGarrett and Lukela made it back. Compton was convinced the two women were conspiring to drive them nuts. First there was all that wedding talk, accompanied by the perusal of every bridal magazine available in the Islands, then they had made them watch " _Steel Magnolias_ " on the VCR and if he ever heard the phrase 'blush and bashful' again it would be too damned soon. The movie had ended in time for the late news. Both women had watched in fascinated disbelief as the sheriff's posse alerted most of Hotel Street to the raid on the mission and the station replayed the clip of McGarrett decking Murphy.

"Whoa!" Compton said, "That was cool! Can't think of anyone more deserving. Most of HPD would love to have done that. Oh, hell, why aren't we taping this?"

"He won't get into trouble over this, will he?" Maggie asked.

"Nah," said Marks. "Sheriff will be lucky if he don't go to jail for obstruction. He's been pissed off with McGarrett ever since he got upstaged by that security dog."

Maggie had rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and considered a shot of whiskey. Lu was relieved that Duke had been nowhere near the place.

One more chick flick, this one called " _Places in the Heart_ ". Both the women were dozing and Marks and Compton were hoping for prowlers, especially after Compton found himself getting way too interested in a stupid movie about cotton farmers. Only that little Sally Field was doing a great job and Danny Glover was on point with his role. He'd even seen Marks surreptitiously blotting a few tears.

He was saved by his rover unit beeping.

"Compton," he answered.

"This is McGarrett. We're pulling into the driveway now."

"Yes, sir." he said, "come on, buddy, time to go to work." He and Marks took up defensive positions on either side of the door.

Maggie and Lu were instantly awake. Military training did that. Sleep to awareness in seconds. Both reached for the weapons on the coffee table.

You could feel the relief in the room when McGarrett and Lukela came in, both looking tired.

Lu was on her feet in seconds, crossing the room to cling to Duke as if he were a lifeline.

Maggie tried to stand, only to have her back muscles cramp. Stress, the docs at Walter Reed had told her, could trigger the muscle cramps. Steve was by her side in seconds.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, holding her close.

"Just my spine reminding me it's still in there, nothing serious." She let herself relax against him. "We saw you on the news, which means we got about half the story because all channel nine has from your office is a big "no comment".

"Murphy was way out of line. That's all."

"Why do I have the feeling you are not being telling me everything."

"It's complicated and I'm too tired for explanations. In the morning." He bent to kiss her on top the head. "I'll be right back. I need to talk to Compton and Marks for a minute."

Duke was already thanking the officers for their time and trouble. Steve walked them outside to their patrol car.

"Anything to report? Anything unusual?"

"Only that blush and bashful are actually pink and pink, sir," Marks said, shaking his head in horror at the memory.

Steve grimaced. "Made you watch chick flicks?"

" _Steel Magnolias_ and _Places in the Heart,_ sir. I'm glad you made it home when you did," Compton replied, " _Fried Green Tomatoes_ was up next."

"Go home," Steve said. "Take tomorrow off and go see your girlfriends. Normal duty for Monday unless Sgt Lukela has other plans. And thank you."

"You're welcome, sir." Compton said. "Anytime. Only next time, we pick the movies." They got into the patrol car and left, this time without flashing lights.

Steve went back into the house to find Maggie and Lu in the kitchen, Duke nursing a glass of pineapple juice to which Lu had added a generous splash of spiced rum.

"Sit," Maggie said. "You need to eat. Both of you."

Lu was making omelets with mushrooms, cheese, and bacon while Maggie was slicing cantaloupe and pouring pineapple juice.

"No argument from me," he said, sitting down at the kitchen table. He glanced over and Duke, then looked again. The silver haired Hawaiian was watching Lu's every move, a contented little smile on his face. _Damn, add one more to the Army's scoreboard_. The next Army/Navy game was going to be interesting.

"Did you remember to take your meds?" Maggie asked.

"No, sorry, got busy and forgot." Steve said, which was probably why he was starting to get a headache. Maggie brought him the pill. He swallowed it with some pineapple juice. Lu served the food while Maggie made cups of chamomile tea.

Both women sipped their tea. Steve and Duke both had a feeling that they were about to be asked some very pointed questions. It didn't help that the two women sitting across the table from them were both reporters.

"I know that look," Steve said. "You're both in reporter mode. No questions tonight, please."

"It's been a long day, Susan," Duke said. "And it is complicated. In the morning."

"Can you at least tell me when my car is going to be out of the shop?" Maggie asked. "What was wrong with it anyway? I hope that hydraulics pump didn't go out. Those things are expensive."

"Che says it'll be ready Monday afternoon." Steve said.

"Why does Che have my car?" Maggie asked, frowning.

"It's getting the same alarm system installed that all Five-O cars have. It'll be ready Monday afternoon. You had a leak in the hydraulic line. It's been fixed." Steve said, leaving out the details of how the leak got there.

"Maggie, does it seem to you that they're both being a bit evasive with the answers?" Lu asked.

"I know they are." Maggie said. "It's getting on to two in the morning and all of us are tired. Duke, the guestroom upstairs has been made up, so, whenever you're ready, Lu can show you the way. I don't know about you, Big Guy, but I'm ready for bed."

She and Lu picked up the empty dishes, putting them in the sink until later.

Duke was falling asleep on his feet. He leaned against Lu as they went upstairs.

"I'm getting too old for this," Steve mumbled as Maggie stood behind his chair, gently massaging his shoulders.

"Bedtime," she said, taking his hand and pulling him to her.

"Best idea I've heard all night." He bent down and swept her off her feet.

"Hey! Put me down! You're too sleepy."

"Only for some things." he said as he carried her into the bedroom.


	12. Chapter 12

McGarrett awoke to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and a warm body pressed against his. Lu must have found the coffee pot, he decided, which was better than the alternative. After a first disastrous attempt at coffee making, Maggie was no longer allowed near any coffee making apparatus.

He checked the clock by the bed. 0600. It was going to be another very long day.

Maggie felt him stirring beside her. "Morning, love," she said.

"Morning, beautiful," he said, kissing her hair. "I'm off to the showers. Want to join me?"

She gave him a sleepy smile. "Don't you ever get enough?" she asked.

"From you, never." he whispered, kissing her neck. "Shower together, save water, good for the ecology."

"We're on an island in the middle of the ocean. It rains all the time," she said as he stroked her bare skin. "Okay, you talked me into it." She got out of bed to join him.

An hour later, they found Lu and Duke sitting at the kitchen table, holding hands, cups of forgotten coffee next to them. Duke was wearing his HPD uniform. Lu was still in Steve's pajamas.

"Morning, y'all," Maggie said, turning on the drawl.

"Morning yourself, lazybones," Lu said, "We've been up since five. Coffee's hot and there's water for your tea. Let's get these guys fed. They can explain things while they eat."

Before either of the men could speak, McGarrett's cell phone rang.

"What have you got?" he asked when he saw Danny's name on the caller ID.

"We hit the jackpot. Ledgers filled with names and dates and places. There are going to be a lot of unhappy people in the great state of Hawaii."

"Is Murphy one of them?"

"Murphy, a couple of city councilmen, a member of the planning commission and few others."

"Keep everything under wraps until I get there. Should be in about an hour. Any word on the surveillance report from Maui?"

"They're still trying to round up someone with a key to the building. I gave them till noon to find the owner or the doors coming down with at battering ram."

"Good work. Keep at them until you get results."

"Gotcha. Drop by the lab before you go to the office. I love it when the criminals keep good records. Makes my job so much easier." Danny hung up.

Steve was smiling as Maggie passed him a cup of coffee, blood pressure medicine on the saucer next to the cup. He took the pill, washing it down with a swallow of coffee.

"You look too happy about that call," Maggie said.

"Let's hope today keeps getting better."

Lu started serving the food. She had made a Midwestern breakfast, eggs, ham, hash browns and toast. She kissed Duke on top the head before she sat down. "Okay, boys, you've been fed. Time to talk. Do not make me go non-com on you."

"You first, Steve," Duke said, digging into his eggs. He was starving. Susan had awakened him at five with one thing on her mind. It was the kind of wake up call he could get use to.

"There's no way to sugar coat this and make it any easier. I wish there were." McGarrett told them everything, giving them the history of Charles Arthur Rhodes and Frank Collins, the standoff at Oahu Prison, the murder of Roxie Harris, the holes in the Mustang's brake lines, the raid on the church, and the escape of Big Chicken, Collins, and Barker.

"Is that why we had babysitter's last night?" Lu asked.

"Yes," Duke said, "The same person who killed Roxie Harris put holes in Maggie's brake lines. Their intention was to disable the brakes, hopefully leaving both of you stranded and easy to get to. Thank God it didn't work. Barker left physical evidence at both crime scenes. Roxie's murder gave us probable cause to search the mission and the church. Only the sheriff and his buddies blew the raids. We got that phony reverend, but Chicken, Collins, and Barker managed to escape while Murphy was putting on his act out front."

"The reverend has a long history of turning states evidence to avoid arrest and prosecution." Steve continued. "He was very cooperative and here's where we got very concerned. Chicken had you two under surveillance from a PI for months. According to the reverend, Chicken is obsessed with the pair of you and I doubt it's in a good way. Chicken was calling you 'insurance'. Insurance for what we don't know. I've got the PI report subpoenaed. I'll know more when Maui PD finds it. Until then, you two will stay at this house."

"Tell that to the US Army when we don't show up for work Monday." Maggie said.

"You will have an HPD escort to the gate at Ft Shafter. You can't get onto Shafter without checking in at the gates. The MP's on gate duty have photos of Chicken and Collins and as soon as we run one down, they'll have one of Barker. The MP's have agreed to additional patrols around the _Stars and Stripes_ building and the BEQ. You'll be safe on post."

"Except I'd feel better if you stayed with me." Duke told Lu, reaching across the table to take her hand.

"But, why?" Lu asked. "I don't understand."

"I sent Chicken up for his third felony. That made him eligible for repeat offender status. Then Steve sent him up for receiving stolen property that gave him life with no parole until last week's ruling by the Court of Appeals. Collins is just plain damn crazy. I pulled him over for a traffic stop for no plates and he came out of the car swinging a cane knife."

"It took four rounds from a .38 to stop him," McGarrett said.

"You went up against a crazy man with a cane knife?" Lu asked, eyes wide.

"Believe me it wasn't my idea," Duke said. "That was the day I lost all faith in a .38 and went to the .357."

"Both those guys are out now?" Maggie asked.

"Out and hiding somewhere on this Island. Chicken, Collins, and Barker. We know Barker's capable of murder. Add him into the mix and it gets scary." Steve said. "Honey, please, stay in the house, keep the drapes closed. Work on wedding plans. Make the officers watch chick flicks. Finish unpacking your things. Just don't go out."

"Do we get Compton and Marks again?" Maggie asked.

"No," Duke said. "Today it's Kanoa and Franklin. Try not to traumatize them too badly."

"I still need some clean clothes," Lu said.

"Your bag is in my truck. I was so tired last night I forgot to bring it in. I'll get it for you before I leave for work." Duke said, getting up to stand behind her chair, hands protectively on her shoulders.

She took one of his hands in both of hers. "What am I suppose to do with you, Sergeant Lukela?"

He bent to whisper something in her ear that no one else could hear, causing her to blush furiously.

The doorbell rang and Duke's rover unit beeped.

"Lukela. What's up?"

"This is Kanoa. We're at the door."

"Roger."

McGarrett went to let the officers in. Lu recognized Kanoa and Franklin from the incident that got their former first sergeant escorted off the Island by a very annoyed Kono. Duke was only sending people they recognized and officers he knew he could trust.

Lu waited on the front steps, breathing in the fresh, cool morning air, while Duke got her bag from his truck. It would be a good beach day. She felt like a grounded teenager. She must have been looking like a sulky teenager because instead of giving her the bag, Duke just held her, not wanting to let her go for fear she'd disappear into the ether.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never intended for this to happen."

"There wasn't anything you could have done about it." God, he felt good. He was a year shy of his fiftieth birthday and in damned good shape. He felt as steady as a rock, one that wouldn't move or change or compromise. One that would _always be there_. "I love you," she said, burying her face in his neck.

"I love you, too, my Kukana. Now go back in the house and stay there. Please? I've got work to do and it won't get done if I'm worrying about you."

"That's why you sent your kids to Hilo, isn't it? To keep them safe? So you wouldn't worry? Why the hell didn't I meet you about twenty years ago?"

"I was married twenty years ago, and so were you. It wouldn't have worked then."

"And now? Will it work now?"

"If I have anything to do with it, it will." He kissed her softly. "Go help Maggie plan her wedding. It'll give you some ideas for ours."

She stood there and watched him drive away, wondering what he meant by that.

If that was a proposal, she already knew the answer.

She went back in the house, humming the same silly little tune she'd been humming since she met him.

* * *

When McGarrett left the house, Maggie and Lu were in the garage, unpacking the sewing machines. Maggie had been sewing since she was tall enough for her feet to reach the controls. He had known she did needlework and embroidery, what he hadn't realized was how good at it she was until she had opened the carton with the framed needlework. When he had asked what the technique was called, she had gone into a discourse on Elizabethan blackwork and embroidery from a historical perspective. He had to admit that the history of any needlework was an area he'd never been too concerned with. She had given a mini lecture that would have done a university professor proud. She knew her subject well and had made it interesting, something he would have normally deemed impossible. The woman kept surprising him. _Maybe,_ he decided, _that's why I love her so much. She's like a book that keeps adding chapters and you have to keep reading because you have to know what happens next._

Danny was still at the lab. It was apparent that he and Che had been there most of the night. He was getting ready to send both of them home to get some rest when Danny, grinning like a Cheshire cat, handed him a ledger that had already been dusted for prints.

"You're gonna love this, Steve," he said, "Turn to page seventeen."

"What's so special about page seventeen?" Steve asked. It was list of names, dates, and amounts. "I'm not familiar with any of the names in here. What are they, clients or employees?"

"None of the names on that list make any sense until you run them through the computer. See the name at the top? Tom Linn, Jr.? Someone thought they were being clever. I ran the names through the computer and asked it what the names all have in common. They're all employees of Oahu State Prison." Danny gave him a computer printout with the officers names, addresses, and work assignments listed by rank.

"Which would make Tom Linn, Jr. Tom Linn's son. Tomlinson. Too bad we can't charge them with making bad puns." No wonder Chicken had hit all the points needed for a parole hearing. He'd paid good money to get the little checks in the right boxes. "My god, this goes all the way through the chain of command to the warden's office. Get the DA and the AG on the line. If you can't reach them by phone, go to their house. I want arrest and search warrants for every name on that list, and that includes finances. And when you're done with that, go home. You too, Che."

"The techies are still going over the computers we found at the scene. Most of it's encrypted, so I suspect I'm going to be sending the hard drives to the FBI's main computer lab at Quantico. It's a good thing the reverend didn't trust computers and kept most of his records in those old fashioned ledgers. Oh, and I've got Maggie's car ready," Che said, smiling. "I'll have the technician deliver it this afternoon. He worked overtime to get it done. I think he's in love."

"With my fiancee?" Steve asked, eyebrow raised.

"No, with that Mustang."

"Tell him to keep it at the speed limit and stay off the Pali. Anything else, Danno?"

"Yeah, and you're gonna have a good laugh over this one. Murphy wants your job."

"Really? There are days when I'd be happy to give it to him. How'd you come to this conclusion?"

Danny took out another ledger. "This is their campaign strategy guide. You know how we were all wondering how Murphy managed to get himself elected to public office. This reads like a how to guide on buying an election, including bribing the right people to run and to drop out of the race as needed. The plan was get Murphy elected sheriff then four years from now, get a new governor elected, one who's first act would be to fire you and appoint Murphy. Only they were going to be backing the wrong candidate for governor."

"Any idea who that would be?"

"The Right Reverend Simon Leeds," Danny said.

Steve shook his head, grimacing at the idea. "Leeds for governor. That would take a lot of money."

"They've got it," Che said, "it's all in these ledgers, and there's probably more on the computers once we're able to access the drives, including where a lot of it was going. An offshore bank in the Cayman Islands and another in the Philippines. Those are the only ones we've found so far, although I suspect there will be more once the accountants and the IRS get involved. Apparently these days the Swiss have too many rules and have a tendency to frown upon taking money from know human traffickers and drug dealers."

"Please tell me Murphy's still in a holding cell," McGarret said.

"Oh, yeah," Danny said, grinning evilly. "And not happy about his accommodations at all."

"Give me an hour and have him brought to my office. Tell Chin and Kono to meet me there, please. Then get those warrants and go home."

"Gotcha, boss. Hate to miss the fun."

"You won't. According to computer, most of the guards listed work day shift. We'll hit them in the morning, at shift change. That way we get them all at one go. And, Danno, while you're at it, get me a warrant to search Chicken's former cell. I'm starting to wonder exactly what it was Chick was paying Tomlinson to ignore."

After signing the proper chain of evidence receipts, McGarrett collected both ledgers and left the lab. He drove back to his office at Iolani on autopilot, deep in thought. The whole thing had just gone political. He hated politics. The only good thing being that federal charges meant federal prisons on the mainland. With Big Chicken's and Collin's previous records, they were prime candidates for a cell in a supermax. With luck, Hawaii was about to see the last of those monsters.

 _So,_ he though, _Murphy and a few of his buddies want to get rid of me. Well, at least this time they want me fired instead of dead_. He supposed that in a way it was some sort of backwards flattery. He did his job, and did it so well the criminals were trying to get rid of him. Five-O took the cases that no one else wanted or knew how to handle. They had a ninety eight percent closure rate. The other two percent still bothered the hell out of him, but they were getting there. When he had taken over Five-O he had told the previous governor that he'd run the division his way. The first few years had been brutal, but then he'd put together the right crew at the right time and that had made all the difference.

 _I'm fifty-three years old,_ he thought. _I'm getting married on my fifty-fourth birthday to a very special woman who deserves more than a twenty-eight hour a day cop. They've got me until I'm sixty and not one day more._

Mind made up, he parked his car and ran up the steps to his office.

* * *

Duke was already there, maps everywhere, co-coordinating the manhunt for the three fugitives.

"Any sign of them?" McGarrett asked.

"Nothing," Duke said. "Not a shadow or a rumor. Either they've gone to ground or anyone who's seen them is too scared to talk. Right now I've got HPD and as many federal marshals I could beg, borrow, or steal concentrating the search from Highway 92 to Beretania between River and Bethel. It's a big area with a lot of construction, warehouses, vacant buildings and tenements. It's slow going. I'd like to call in a few deputy sheriff's, only I don't know if we can trust any of them."

"That's two of us. Hit their roster. Ask for volunteers from anyone who was hired pre-Murphy. Who's in charge over there now that Murphy's locked up?"

"That twit Hardin. His lawyer showed up with a writ and we had to let him go. Murphy made a glorified press secretary with zero law enforcement experience his second in command. Now that's a man who knows the value of looking good for the cameras. By the way, I pulled Hardin's service record. Interesting read."

"How so?" McGarrett asked. He hadn't seen Hardin's entire record, just the portion of it that got him escorted off the Island.

"He's made a career out of being at the right place at the right time and none of that time was in combat. The closest he ever came to seeing any action was when he served six months in Korea near the DMZ back in '72. He somehow managed to miss the entire Gulf War by being assigned training duty at Fort Gordon, Georgia. That gives a lot of insight into his behavior towards women who are decorated combat veterans. The record also indicates that his military specialization code is 31Z30A, or senior communications specialist. It means he can run a platoon, and that's about it. He's not a reporter, editor, photographer, or columnist. The man doesn't even have a GED. Makes you wonder if he can even write his name correctly. The only experience he's had with journalism of any type was the eight months he spent at the _Stars and Stripes_ making everyone around him miserable."

"Remember when the reverend was referring to useful idiots? We may have found one. Kono and Chin are bringing the sheriff in for an interview. Have someone from HPD round up Hardin. Where's his file?"

"I put it on your desk, along with the one for Bernard "Bulldog" Barker. I'm going to warn you about that one. Leaves you with a slimy feeling from just having read it." Duke said, looking utterly disgusted. He was a Navy veteran with a rack of combat ribbons earned in Vietnam. As far as he was concerned, the DD Barker had earned wasn't nearly as much as he deserved.

McGarrett grabbed a cup of coffee and retreated to his office. He opened Hardin's file and began reading. Hardin was just smart enough to stay out of trouble, or at least he had been until he'd made the mistake of putting his hands on a small female Army sergeant with good reflexes and a bad case of PTSD that made unwelcome advances dangerous to the person making them. After reviewing all the witness statements as well as the medical reports filed at Tripler Hospital, Hardin had been allowed to medically retire, after first being stripped of two stripes. McGarrett thought he'd gotten off lightly. Hardin claimed that he had been receiving mixed signals from the sergeant all day, was only coming onto her and had no idea that she was a combat veteran with PTSD, a lie so blatant that McGarrett kept expecting the file to burst into flames. Hardin had been hired by Murphy two weeks earlier, having seen the ad for the job on Honolulu County's website. It was a match made in cyber heaven.

Barker's file wasn't nearly as thick as Hardin's, but it was enough. Barker was a slimeball of the first order. He'd been given a DD for an incident involving what Barker must have thought of as a prank that was the height of hilarity and ended up getting three female sailors seriously injured when the fire control systems in the women's berthing area had activated in the middle of the night. His excuse was he just wanted to see how many of them were breaking regulation by sleeping nude, offering as proof the evidence he'd collected from a network of hidden cameras he'd strung throughout the area. The captain, a man who obviously tolerated no nonsense on his ship as shown by Barker's two trips to captain's mast and four letters of reprimand, had decided enough was enough. The ship, home ported in San Diego, had made an unscheduled stop in Hawaii to drop Barker off for processing out of the Navy.

In all Barker had served nine years in the Navy, including a brief stint on a carrier during the Gulf War. The more McGarrett read, the more convinced he was that the man was a waste of oxygen. Barker had extremely high test scores and graduated first in his class from three of the Navy's computer systems schools, including both encryption and fiber optics technology. According to the psychiatric evaluation attached to the DD proceedings, Barker was a hedonist with narcissistic tendencies and a borderline sociopath. _Great,_ McGarrett thought, _a sociopath with access to a computer owned by a con man and who's just became best buddies with a pair of homicidal maniacs._ He wanted all three of them off the streets before anyone else got hurt.

There was commotion in the outer office as Hardin barged in. "What is the meaning of this," he roared, face red with anger. Hardin was standing between two HPD officers with the sheriff following, Chin and Kono at his heels.

"Sit," McGarrett said, pointing to the two chairs in front of his desk. "Chin, be a gentleman and read them their rights, please." He sat down and turned on the tape recorder.

Chin recited the Miranda ruling. Both the sheriff and his scrawny deputy looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

"Either of you give up the right to remain silent?" McGarrett asked.

"Turn off that damned tape recorder," Hardin demanded.

McGarrett tilted his head and looked at Hardin, eyes the shade of icy blue that usually indicated he'd had enough. "Funny, I don't recall anyone asking me if I wanted to be taped decking your boss. The tape stays on. Everything is being recorded, that way there are no mistakes. Would either of you care for a lawyer?"

"I don't need one," Hardin said. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Keep that thought in mind, please." McGarrett said. "About the only thing you're guilty of at this time is being stupid."

"Listen, McGarrettt," Murphy said. "It's been a long night and all I want is to go home. Fair's fair. I probably shouldn't have tried to have you arrested and you've all had your fun. You can't keep me here."

"Yes, I can, Mr. Murphy. We found the ledgers from the mission. The ones with the names and dates and places listed. I see that Big Chicken and his cronies were trying to buy their way into politics. Chin, you got them?"

Chin smiled, feeling overly pleased with himself as he took the papers out of his jacket pocket and handed them to McGarrett. "Here you go, boss, arrest warrant for the sheriff, a search warrant for his house, car, and office, and oh, just for kicks, a subpoena for all his financial information, both public and private, including any and all campaign contributions."

"Thank you, Chin. Did we miss anything?"

"I'm not sure if the goop he has on his hair meets EPA regulations, but I'm going to let that one slide for now. Otherwise, I think we've got everything pretty much covered.

"Hear that, Hardin? We're looking at the sheriff for accepting bribes and malfeasance in office as well as interfering with a police investigation and obstruction of justice. So far we haven't found anything linking you to any crime committed in the Islands. You cooperate fully and you may get out of here without being charged with anything."

Hardin had made a career out of covering his ass. He didn't like the way the big Hawaiian cop standing behind him was glaring at him, nor did he care for the expression on McGarrett's face. Rumor had it that evil little half sized cunt was now engaged to the man. All he had to say to that was good luck and god bless. Hardin had once had a very successful military career being at the right place at the right time. He was hoping he could at least salvage his dignity and qualify for severance pay.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Shut the fuck up!" Murphy demanded. "Keep your mouth shut and we'll come out ahead in the game. I already told you it's all politics!"

"No, Murphy," McGarrett interrupted, "this time you will shut up and listen. Thanks to that little stunt you pulled yesterday, three dangerous felons are now loose on the streets. Anything they do is on your head!"

"Nonsense," Murphy said, trying to match McGarrett's glare and failing miserably. "I know those men. They're been rehabilitated. I saw to it myself."

"Rehabilitated? You are more clueless than I suspected." McGarrett stood up, picked up a pile of file folders from his desk, and practically hurled them at the sheriff. "That's only part of Charles Arthur Rhodes' files. There are more. Arrest reports, surveillance records, victim statements. You didn't bother to check, did you? You collected your campaign funds and wore your tailored uniforms for the press and neglected to check the facts. Now Rhodes and Collins are out there somewhere and good men and women are going to have to put their lives on the line to bring them in. This isn't television or the movies. When someone gets hurt out there, they bleed and sometimes they die and if that happens I swear I will do my damnedest to see that you are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. If you have any idea where those monsters are hiding, you need to tell us."

"I have no idea," Murphy said, truthfully. He was a firm believer in the concepts of don't ask, don't tell, and plausible deniability. "All I was suppose to do was give them a heads up if there was a raid."

"On who's orders?" McGarrett asked. "Who's pulling the strings? I know it isn't you. You were hired to play a part, that's all. A part you had to audition for. Who's the director? I'll bet whoever it is wasn't expecting Rhodes to go off the reservation so soon."

Murphy looked like he was about to start crying. The script wasn't going as planned. Too many damned rewrites. He was tired because the bunk in the holding cell was not up to his personal comfort levels. He needed a shower and his hair was a mess. All he wanted to do was go home and soak in the hot tub for about six hours. The look on McGarrett's face was telling him that wasn't going to be happening in the near future.

"The only one I had contact with was David Maru from the city council. He's the only one I ever saw. I didn't ask who the rest were. And that one guy at HPD, Seth Walker. He's the one who suggested I run in the first place."

McGarrett stared at the sheriff. "You had better be telling the truth. Kono, ask Duke to step in for a minute, please."

Duke came in, looking preoccupied. "What's up?"

"Sheriff, in what capacity did you know Seth Walker?" McGarrett asked.

"He was the one encouraged me to run for sheriff. Said I'd be a shoe in. Had all the qualifications, looked good in the uniform, could make believable speeches. He said all I'd have to do was make a few press statements, maybe go on a raid or two, mostly just look like a sheriff is suppose to look. That was all. Just look like a sheriff. And then four years from now, after the right candidate for governor was elected, they'd fire you and appoint me as chief of Five-O. That was it. Just politics, is all it was."

"Politics?" Duke asked, incredulously. "That's not politics, that's conspiracy. Are you willing to swear in court that Captain Seth Walker, commander of HPD's vice division, is on the take?"

"No," Murphy said, "not on the take, it's just campaign contributions. He was getting funding to run for governor from all sorts of people. A lot of them attended the church or were working at the mission. That's why he didn't want the place raided, or for HPD to interfere with their work. They were doing so much good."

"Tell that to the girls we found there." McGarrett said, wondering how the man had managed to survive without a keeper for so long. "Okay, Sheriff, you're about to make the most heartfelt and public apology the people of Honolulu have ever heard. You're going to announce at a press conference to be held this evening that you are unable to fulfill your duties as sheriff because your dear mother has taken ill."

"My mother died two years ago," Murphy said.

"Then you'd better find another one fast. After you have announced that you will be flying back to the mainland to stay with her for the duration, you will be placed in protective custody until the district attorney decides what to do with you. Hardin, this is your one shot at fame. You better write a believable speech. Then you're on the next plane off this rock, and this time you'd better not come back. We clear on this?"

"Uh, yeah, only I'm not a writer," Hardin said.

"What do you mean, you're not a writer?" McGarrett asked, enjoying watching Hardin sweat. "You worked for the _Stars and Stripes_. According to rumor, you practically wrote the entire paper."

"I may have exaggerated somewhat," he said.

"Then who did the writing, Deputy Hardin? Little fairy's with tiny typewriters?"

Hardin knew McGarrett wasn't about to let him off the hook. Every war story he'd ever told was coming back to haunt him as those relentless ice blue eyes bored into his. "It was the rest of the staff. I just supervised." McGarrett continued to glare "Okay, goddammit, Colonel Dale was the editor and that big Polock and that little half sized Cajun helped. Satisfied?"

"Very. Kono, get him out of here. And by out of here I mean off this Island."

"You got it, boss. I see he still hasn't learned how to respect women. Their names are Sgt Yablanski and Sgt Alden and don't you forget it." Kono escorted Hardin out.

"Looks like you're going to have to write your own dialog for a change, Sheriff," McGarrett said. "Chin, call the DA's office. I suspect John Manicote will be happy to help the sheriff and he should be out of church by now."

Duke watched as Chin escorted the Sheriff from the office, jaw clenched, disapproval very apparent on his handsome Polynesian face. "I guess that explains why we couldn't get vice to go in and how Murphy found out about the raid."

"Yes. Politics. I'd rather go swimming with sharks. I'm confused though. The evidence says that the next governor's candidate was going to be Leeds, and Murphy was certain it was Walker. Makes you wonder which one was planning on running."

"Probably both, then at the last minuted the reverend would back out, throwing all his support behind Walker. Walker has made no secret of his political ambitions. It was only a matter of time before he ran for something." Duke was gazing off into the distance. He had a headache and had taken off his glasses, giving his eyes a slightly unfocused look. "Walker use to be a good cop. I wonder what happened?" He shook his head and returned to the ongoing search.


	13. Chapter 13

Maggie was still sleeping when he left the next morning. Usually she was his warm human alarm clock, permanently set at 0430. Today, he was up at 0300 to get ready for the raid on Oahu State Prison. He had the warrants, he had the manpower lined up, and for this raid, he knew the sheriff wasn't going to show up and tip off the suspects. Federal marshals were standing by, ready to take over the management of the place.

He'd gotten home just before sundown, the search for the fugitives having been called off because of darkness. There were still spots in the search area where no one went after dark without a swat team as backup. The search of the PI's office on Maui had turned up detailed billing records and a 'do not file, do not copy' order. The PI who did most of the investigation was one Carson Smith, now on an extended holiday in New Zealand and who bore a very striking resemblance to the mug shot of one Carlton Saunders, recently released from HPD custody after pleading guilty to misdemeanor voyeurism. The reverend wasn't exaggerating when he'd said it was high dollar surveillance. The state comptroller would have screamed bloody murder at the invoice. McGarrett had wanted Maggie and Lu to stay at the house. Lu had other ideas. Duke had driven Lu back to Ft Shafter, leaving her car parked in the driveway next to Maggie's returned Mustang. Duke wasn't happy about the idea, but Lu had insisted she needed to get uniforms ready for the next week.

They had gone walking on the beach after Kanoa and Franklin had left. Maggie had been unusually quiet most of the evening. When Steve had asked her why, she'd replied that the last time she'd had to deal with this much security it was because the damned Iraqi's were shooting SCUD missiles at the Americans and everything was locked down. He'd held her until she'd stopped trembling; then they'd returned to the house and made love until he felt the tension draining from her body, hoping that she'd be able to sleep without being awakened by PTSD fueled nightmares and giving him one more reason to want Big Chicken locked up for good.

He lay there, holding her, watching her sleep, her body warm and soft against his. She was a wonder, this Little _Menehune._ He knew it was cliché but most of the time he'd be the first one sleeping. He'd hold her, listening to her breathe and her heart beating, sometimes listening to that southern drawl lulling him into a world of softness he hadn't known could exist; happy, contented, and at peace with the world. Instead, tonight, he'd held her while she slept, thinking how that if a year ago anyone had told him he'd meet an Army sergeant from Louisiana, a tiny women seventeen years his junior, with a lot of silver hair, tattoos, and big green eyes; who drove too fast, played heavy metal music way too loud, and couldn't make coffee at all; that this small enigma wrapped up in an army uniform with a chestful of combat ribbons and a world class case of PTSD was going to turn his entire world upside down and have him thinking of the rest of his life in terms of _**not**_ being a cop, he would have told them they were crazy. He had known her for a week when he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. The first time he'd touched her hand, that awful day when she had to identify the body of her missing soldier, he felt like he'd been hit by a bolt of energy that went straight to his heart. He'd looked down into those big green eyes and had known he was going to find a reason to see her again.

He loved her to a distraction. The first time they had made love it was over in minutes, but only because neither of them could get enough of the other fast enough. The intensity of the encounter was phenomenal for both. The next time he had taken his time, exploring every inch of her body, all of those curves and gentle rises, the firm mounds and soft peaks. He found all the spots, the sweet spots, those secret places that only lover's know, the ones where a touch or a nibble sends a current of need and desire through the body, where a soft flick of the tongue in the right place at the right time can bring instant satisfaction. He'd done the same tonight, loving her well and reverently, worshiping her as if she were a goddess, hoping to calm her fears, to keep the nightmares from returning. He was starting to drift off to sleep, his right hand palm down against the slight curve of her tummy over the pelvic arch, when he felt a faint, almost imperceptible movement under his palm. He sat up a bit, eyes wide open, pressing his palm down a little harder, yet not hard enough to wake her. There it was again, the same soft movement, the same swift tiny fluttering, as if something very small had rolled over and gone back to sleep, and then there was stillness.

He lay back down, holding her as close as he dared without disturbing her. Probably just a muscle spasm. He couldn't form the words to put into thought what he was hoping. He fell asleep inhaling the scent of her perfume.

* * *

The bed was narrow and crowded and he didn't care because Susan was there with him.

After Duke had dropped Susan off at the BEQ on Ft Shafter, he'd gone to the beach, managing to catch a few waves before darkness had him paddling back to the shore. He'd gone home, showered, and tried to sleep, only to lie there staring at the ceiling of his too quiet bedroom in his too quiet house until he finally admitted defeat. He got up, got dressed, grabbed a clean uniform from the closet and drove back to Ft Shafter. The MP on the gate, the same one who'd signed him off post not four hours earlier, smirked at his HPD ID and handed him a visitor's parking pass.

"Man, you need to get your girlfriend to get you a permanent pass. That'd make my life a hell of a lot easier."

Duke frowned at the kid as he drove away.

Ten minutes later he was knocking on her door.

She stood there looking at him, half smiling, wearing pajama pants and a very small tee shirt that left nothing to the imagination.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Anytime," she said. "You know, I'm suppose to write the kiddies up for what we're about to do."

"I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble," he said as he took her into his arms.

"Baby, you've been trouble since I met you," she said, silencing any objections he may have had with kisses.

"Susan," he whispered as he held her. "My magic lady. I couldn't sleep without you there next to me. I tried. It just wasn't happening."

"Same here," she said. "This bed isn't nearly as big as yours and it felt empty without you. Now all I have to do is sneak you out of here before reveille."

"I have to leave around four, if you don't mind. I'm sorry, I know it's early. There's something I have to do first thing in the morning." He held her closer. Tomorrow morning he'd pick up the warrant for Captain Seth Walker's arrest.

"Still haven't found your bad guys, have you?" she asked.

"No, honey, we haven't. It's only a matter of time before we find them. They haven't left the Island and I have a feeling they haven't left the city either."

"Maybe tomorrow." she said, snuggling closer.

"Susan," he said.

"Yes, love?"

"It's going to work. You. Me. Us. It's going to work."

She reached up to caress his cheek, his skin feeling like soft warm leather. She could feel his pulse beating as she rested her hand against his throat.

"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me," she said.

"My Kukana," he whispered, lips brushing against her ear, making her senses tingle.

"That's the second time you've called me that. What does that mean?" she asked.

"It's your name in Hawaiian. My Kukana, my Susan," he said as he kissed her.

It was remarkable what two adults can get up to in a very narrow bed when they have each other on their minds.

* * *

Compton, Marks, Kanoa, and Franklin had all been asked to stay behind after roll call. All four of them were gathered around a table, coffee in hand, speculating on their next duty.

"It'd better not be babysitting again," Compton groused. "I mean, they feed you and everything, only all that wedding planning stuff is too much."

"Don't forget the chick flicks," Kanoa said, shuddering.

"I'm trying. 'Secret's in the sauce' my ass," said Franklin. "I'm never eating barbecue again."

"Oh, yeah?" said Compton, "I'll see you two chick flicks and raise you one Hawaiian sex god."

"One what?" Marks asked.

"While you were out chasing the mongoose out of the bushes, they started giggling about this one magazine article. Then the tall one said something about finding an Hawaiian sex god and the little one started giggling about 'Mr. Tent in the Covers' and hell no I did not ask them to elaborate!"

"Dude," said Kanoa, "I'm gonna need serious therapy to get that image out of my head!"

Further speculation ended as Sgt Lukela, followed by two men in suits the uniformed officers recognized as belonging to Internal Affairs entered the room. Lukela looked more serious than usual.

"Officers, this is Lt Welby and Sgt Lee from Internal Affairs. Before you go into panic mode they are not here for you." He gave them a slight smile, trying to reassure them. IA was always bad news. "Every now and then, we find a police officer who's stepped over the line. When that happens, everything needs to be done out in the open, so there's no doubt as to how and why. Today we're going to be arresting a fellow officer for allegedly doing some very bad things. You are going to be there to witness the arrest. It won't be pleasant, but it has to be done. That's what being a police officer is, doing what has to be done, no matter how unpleasant it may be. Are you ready?"

They all nodded in affirmation. "Who we arresting, Sergeant?" asked Kanoa.

"Captain Seth Walker from Vice. His office is on the third floor. Please follow us. We're going to try to do this as quietly as possible."

They took the elevator to the third floor. Walker had a corner office at the end of the corridor across the hall from the detectives bullpen. He was just coming out of his office when he saw Duke, flanked by Welby and Lee and followed by the four uniformed officers. He paused long enough to make eye contact with Duke before retreating back into his office, slamming the door and locking it.

The officers sprinted down the corridor. Cops are naturally nosy, especially when there's a commotion taking place outside their offices. Heads were turning and weapons were being drawn, just in case.

Duke knocked on the door. "Cpt Walker, open the door! We've got a warrant for your arrest. Open the door or it's coming down."

Walker answered by putting two rounds through the top of the door. Both of them ricocheted harmlessly into the ceiling, sending down a shower of plaster dust.

"You're on the third floor, Captain." Duke said. "There's no way out and I know you don't want to shoot an officer."

"Oh, yeah! You know what they do to cops in lockup! Screw you!" Walker fired another round through the door, this one boring into the opposite wall.

"It's only a matter of time before he hits someone," Lee said.

"He's firing high," Duke said. "I'd say he's doing it intentionally."

"Intentional or not, we're going in. Franklin, break down the door. As soon as it's open, we rush."

"No," Duke said. "I'll go in. The only person he wants to kill is himself and we're not going to do it for him."

"You sure?" asked Welby. "Kevlar's no good for a head shot and he's an expert marksman."

"That's how I know he's not going to shoot anyone," Duke said. "He's aiming high and taking angle and possible ricochet into consideration. He wants to die, and wants us to do it for him. Not today."

Lee nodded in agreement. "Okay, break it down, count of three, then go in. We've got your back, just in case and I hope like hell you're right."

"So do I," Duke said.

Franklin kicked down the door.

"I'm coming in, Captain." Duke said. He entered the room, service revolver still in it's holster. Walker sat at his desk, gun pointed under his chin.

"Put that down, please," Duke said. "Shooting yourself isn't going to solve a thing."

"Really," Walker said. "How would you know? You know what they say about you? That you're incorruptible. That you live by some old honor code straight out of the 1800's. Never took a bribe, never even cheated on your wife. Always did the right thing at the right time. Like some sort of freaking superhero."

"No, Captain, just a cop. That's all, just a cop. You've got a wife and kids, don't do this to them."

"Wife? Kids? Not anymore. I've got two ex wives and three ex kids who won't talk to me because they think I'm the biggest jerk who ever lived for leaving their mom for women half my age who look good in tight designer dresses," Walker said bitterly. "I thought I needed a trophy on my arm. One that would look good for the cameras. That was my first mistake."

"You can't fix a mistake if you're dead. We all make mistakes. Some worse than others. They can be fixed. You just have to want to fix them."

Outside the door, the young officers were listening, guns drawn. Sgt Lukela was speaking quietly to Captain Walker, trying to get to the part of the man's brain that once housed a good cop. This was better than any classroom lecture they'd ever attended at the academy.

"Yeah, easy for you to say. You got lucky. You had a good woman. I keep marrying women who can't survive without at wallet full of credit cards and twenty four carat gold jewelry. This last one never met a jewelry store she didn't like. I still haven't found the right one."

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong places, Brudah." Duke said, slowly moving toward the desk, trying to keep Walker talking.

"Wait until she finds out I've been arrested. She'll clean out what's left in the bank and divorce me. After your wife died, everyone was waiting for you to go a little nuts. Or end up with some silly little chippie just to get though the night. Only it didn't happen. You're still the same. Heard you got a new women. An Army sergeant, of all things. Is she a good women? Where'd you find her?"

"She is a good women. One of the best. I found her on the lanai at a party at Steve McGarrett's house. She'd be really upset if you shot me."

"I was at that party. Left early because my wife didn't like not being the center of attention. I think it was because she was being intimidated by a bunch of women who don't give a crap about jewelry and designer dresses. Don't worry, I'm not going to shoot you, Lukela. I don't even think I'm going to shoot myself. If I had the courage to do that, I'd have done it years ago."

"We're not going to shoot you either. You want to give me that gun, please?"

Walker slowly lowered the gun. He handed it Duke, who opened the breach and emptied the chamber.

Compton and Marks handcuffed Walker. Lt. Welby read him his Miranda rights and escorted him downstairs to central booking.

Duke stood there a minute, looking around Walker's office. There was a picture of Walker and his latest trophy wife on the desk. Walker was in a tux and his wife, a small Asian women of mixed heritage, was in a dress that must have cost at least two grand and wearing enough gold and diamonds to start her own jewelry shop.

"Get this place secured until the lab and IA can get back in here," he told the officers. "When you're done with that, hit the streets. We're still trying to run down fugitives. I'll be at Iolani if anyone needs me. Good work, men."

The four young officers nodded as he left.

"That was the bravest thing I think I've ever seen," Kanoa said after they'd sealed the office with crime scene tape.

"Nah," Marks said. "The bravest thing that man ever did was ask that female first sergeant out on a date. That took some _cojones._ After that, anything would be a piece of cake."

Compton rolled his eyes ceilingward. "Time to hit the streets. The criminals aren't going to arrest themselves." He wasn't going to speculate about Hawaiian sex gods, but he knew a damned good cop when he saw one.

* * *

Maggie was lying on the exam table, feet in the stirrups, waiting for Dr. Sessums. She didn't like gynecologists, refused to see one that wasn't female, and had brought Lu along for moral support. She was fairly certain the doctor was going to tell her something she wasn't going to like.

Maggie had seen Dr. Sessums when she'd first arrived in Hawaii. The docs from Walter Reed insisted she have a thorough exam every six months, including one for gynecology. Dr Sessums was an attractive blonde in her mid thirties with a twisted sense of humor. She was also a very good doctor.

"Nice to see you again, Sgt Alden," she said, glancing up from the chart. "I see today's visit is because you want to have a baby and discuss possible fertility treatment. Does this mean that you've met someone since your last visit?"

"Yes," Maggie said. "I have. We're getting married in December. I didn't think it would ever happen again, but it did. Now tell me what I need to do to get pregnant."

"Having sex is always a good start," Dr. Sessums said. "I'm going to assume you've tried that already." She pulled on a pair of exam gloves. "Deep breath there, it's time for the not so fun part."

Maggie took a deep breath and held it as the doctor poked and prodded her insides.

"When was the last time you had a period?" she asked, looking up, frowning.

"I haven't had one since I got to Hawaii. They've been erratic since I got hurt, now I think they've stopped altogether."

"Been sleeping more lately? Any problem with swollen ankles?"

"Now that you mention it, I have been sleeping more. I thought the insomnia was finally going away. No swollen ankles though."

Dr Sessums took out a tape measure and measured the distance between belly button and pelvic bone, hummed a bit, and wrote something on the chart. Then she took out a stethoscope with a bell shaped attachment hanging from it. She held it over Maggie's lower abdomen.

"Hey," Maggie said, "that thing's freezing."

"Yes, I kept it in the fridge just for you. Quiet."

"Find anything interesting?" Maggie asked after what she considered one freezing prod too many.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Looks like you're not going to have to worry about fertility treatments after all. Congratulations. You're pregnant."

"What! I mean how? I haven't had a period in ages!"

"You don't have to have a period to get pregnant. Just ovulate at the right time, have sex, and presto, instant baby. Here, have a listen."

Dr. Sessums helped Maggie adjust the stethoscope and held it to her tummy. "The stronger heartbeat is yours, the fainter one, with the little whistle behind it, is the baby's. It's a good strong heartbeat. The whistle is the blood going through the placenta. I'm going to guess you're between twelve and sixteen weeks. I'll schedule an ultrasound for tomorrow morning. Bring your guy in with you. That is if he's doesn't die from shock first."

"Wow. Baby in there. Wow." Maggie said.

"Yes, baby in there," Dr Sessums said, smiling at Maggie's reaction. "And with your medical history this is going to be one closely monitored pregnancy. As of today, no more PT. Get lots of rest and no more twelve hour days chasing down stories or 24 hour duty. I suspect you're about to spend a lot of time on bed rest so I suggest taking up knitting."

"Baby. Going to have baby."

"Yes, baby. Sometime in February of next year. I'll be able to give you a closer due date after the ultrasound. Now get dressed, there are some forms you need to fill out at the front desk. Oh, and you may want to move your wedding date up if your planning on fitting into the dress."

Maggie got dressed in the pants uniform she had worn to the doctor's because she hadn't felt like fighting with a pair of pantyhose twice in one day. She was at the desk filling out forms, when Lu caught sight of her. One look told her something was up.

The clerk was typing information into the fields of a template. "Dad's name?" she asked.

"Steven J. McGarrett," Maggie said automatically.

The clerk hit print. A minute later a three by five card with clip art of lambs, teddy bears, and a stork flying over cleared the printer. It read: SFC Margaret C. Alden and Steven J. McGarrett will be anticipating their new arrival February 1997. She date and time stamped it at the bottom. Some of their patients wanted to know the exact day they found out they were expecting.

Maggie passed Lu the card.

"You have got to be kidding!" she said.

"Nope. Ultrasound is tomorrow morning. I swear I had no clue."

"Wow. In February? You're going to have to move up the wedding date."

"Yeah, from his birthday to mine. Oh god, I've got to tell him. I hope he's back at his office."

"I'll go with you. Duke will be there. I'll see if I can drag him out of there long enough to get some lunch."

"Good idea. We can stop by the print shop on the way out and see how quickly they can get the invitations out. Lu! I'm pregnant! We're gonna have a baby!"

Lu shook her head, laughing as she hugged her friend, hoping that this time everything would work.

They were both so preoccupied with the news that neither of them noticed the white van with military marking that pulled out of Tripler's parking lot behind them and followed them to the print shop.

* * *

Big Chicken was happy. The cargo had been delivered, and was now bound back to back in two wooden chairs, heads still covered with the black hoods that kept them from seeing where they were being taken, not that it mattered, both were still groggy from the chloroform.

"You should have let me take the car," Barker complained. "We could get good money for that thing. Chop shops would pay premium for that engine."

"Shut up, Barker," Collins said. "The fuzz need to find the car."

"They need to find the car and they need to worry. We want them to worry. We want them to know we're holding all the cards. Take those hoods off, I want to see what's so special about those two."

Barker jerked the hoods off.

Chicken went over to where the women were tied to the chairs. He lifted Maggie's chin and patted her on the cheek to rouse her. "Wakey wakey, Sgt Alden."

Maggie had lost her glasses and couldn't see who was speaking to her. Her lower back hurt like hell. One of the thugs had cracked her across the back with a nightstick. She wanted to scream in pain but refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing her.

"Wakey wakey, Sgt Yablanski." Chick said, going around to where Lu was tied. "I've got both of you. Just like I planned. This couldn't have worked better if I'd done the job myself. Such pretty ladies. I can't wait to get to know you both better. Too bad that cute redheaded sailor couldn't join us."

In the corner, Collins laughed.

"You see, ladies," Chicken said, pacing around them in a circle, stopping on occasion to have a closer look at the women."We've been locked up a long time. A long time. By McGarrett and Lukela. Remember, ladies, that whatever happens, is all their fault. Not mine, not yours, but theirs. They hide behind those badges and think they're some sort of gods, telling the rest of us what we can and can't do. They think they serve a noble cause, and that gives them power. Not anymore. When I'm done, they'll both be useless. As for you two, I need you to get off this Island. You will be returned to Mr. McGarrett and Sgt Lukela all in good time. Of course, no one says what condition you have to be in when we do."

Chicken leered at the women. Today was going to be a good day.


	14. Chapter 14

McGarrett made it back to Iolani to find a frustrated Duke Lukela. The fugitives were still no shows and searching the area around Chinatown and Hotel Street was proving difficult. No one seemed to know anything, or if they did, they weren't telling.

"Most of that area is slated for urban renewal, only the historical society stepped in. They want to keep the area as original as possible. Some of those buildings are over a hundred years old. Which means there are rooms that aren't going to show up on plans or blueprints, that is even if the plans are still available."

"Isn't that the same area you said would benefit from urban renewal by flamethrower?" McGarrett asked, pouring a cup of black Kona coffee.

"The same. It would be a vast improvement."

"How's it going with the Coast Guard and the FFA?" McGarrett asked.

"Every boat and every plane off this Rock are being searched, so I know they haven't left the Island. They've got to show themselves sometime. I can't see Big Chicken and Collins holed up for very long. Chicken loves his creature comforts and Collins is going to be looking for someone to beat up. We need to find them before someone gets hurt."

"I'm with you on that one," Steve said.

"How'd the raid on the prison go?" Duke asked.

"Got everyone on the list, including the warden. That's one we can add to the win column. I've got Chin and Kono going over Chicken's cell as only they can. The warden lawyered up the minute he saw the warrant. He's probably going to try to make a deal with the feds. He doesn't want to end up in his own prison. How'd it go with Walker?"

"He's on suicide watch at Queens."

"Heard you talked him out of suicide by cop." McGarrett said.

"Didn't want anyone hurt, was all." Duke said, shrugging.

 _The only time I've ever seen him nervous was the day he asked me for Lu's phone number_ , McGarrett thought. _He does what he has to be done and he does it because it's the right thing to do. I need about a dozen just like him._

"Steve," Jenny called from across the room, "I've got Colonel Dale on the line. Says he needs to talk to you."

McGarrett and Duke exchanged glances. "I'll take it here," McGarrett said, taking the phone from Jenny's hand. "McGarrett."

"Sorry to bother you, Steve, but have you seen Sgt Alden and Sgt Yablanski. They should have been back from lunch over an hour ago. I tried calling but neither of them are answering their cell phones."

"I haven't seen Maggie since this morning. Could you hold for minute? Thanks." He hit the hold button. "Duke, have you seen Lu today?"

"Not since around four this morning. What's up."

"Don't know yet." He took the phone off hold. "No one here has seen them since this morning. What's going on?"

"Sgt Alden had a doctor's appointment at Tripler this morning and Sgt Yablanski went with her for moral support. They were suppose to have been back after lunch, around 1300. Only it's 1430, no one's seen them, and they're not answering their phones. I've know those two for years and they've never done anything like this before. It's highly unusual to say the least."

"Thank you for calling, sir." Steve said. "If you hear from them have them call me or Sgt Lukela at once." He handed Jenny the phone for hang up.

"Steve," Duke said, face pale. "What's going on?"

"Maggie and Lu never got back from lunch and they're not answering their phones. Colonel Dale was calling to ask if we had seen them."

Duke closed his eyes for a brief moment. "This is not happening," he said.

Steve's cell phone rang, followed almost immediately by Duke's.

Maggie's name popped up on the caller ID.

"Maggie, baby, where the hell are you?"

He heard Duke in the background, "Kukana, what's going on? Colonel Dale just called."

"Isn't that just about the sweetest thing you ever heard. Big, bad tough cops worried about their lady friends," Big Chicken said in the same smary tone McGarrett had come to loathe, each word carefully spaced and enunciated. "Such pretty ladies. It's a pity what's about to happen to them. The only thing that keeps this from being a perfect moment is Officer Williams' little sailor is off the Island and we couldn't get to her. For now, anyway."

"If you hurt either of those women, I will hunt you down, Chicken. Put Maggie on the phone, now!"

"As you wish, I'll even be nice enough to let Sgt Lukela talk to the big blonde. I know places where she'd fetch top dollar, even at her age."

Chicken held the phone to Maggie's head. "Say something nice to your boyfriend and I won't have to hurt you. Same goes for your big friend." He held the other phone to Lu's.

"Steve," Maggie said, "I'm okay."

"We're coming to get you, baby. As soon as we can."

"Duke, I'm fine," Lu said. "They haven't done anything yet."

"They'd better not, either. It's going to be okay, Kukana, I will find you."

"That's enough conversation for now. Don't want to run these batteries down. Isn't technology grand? When the party really starts, its going to be over an open phone line. So you can hear. And you know the best thing of all is you can't trace a cell phone. No wires to run down, just a signal that you'll never find. Isn't that wonderful? Ciao, Mr. McGarrett, Sergeant Lukela." Chicken ended both calls.

"Danno, get on the phone to the cell company and find out where the last two calls originated from. See if you can find which tower they were bouncing off."

"You got it." Danny said. "He's wrong about not tracing cell calls. It can be done, it just takes a while. As soon as I'm done here I'll see what the lab can arrange."

"Duke, you going to be okay?"

"I will when I know she's safe."

"I'm putting out APB's on both of them." He went over the the radio. "Central, this is McGarrett. I've go a Red Alert for the following people. Sergeant First Class Margret Alden. Last seen around noon at Tripler Army Hospital. She's 37 years old, five foot one, about 115 pounds, green eyes, long silver hair, braided and pinned up, wears glasses. Last seen wearing a Class A Army uniform. Hold please. Duke, you can give a better description of Lu than I can."

Duke nodded and took the mic. "The next person is First Sergeant Susan Yablanski, also last seen at Tripler Army hospital. She's 43 years old, five foot eleven, about 140 pounds, short blonde wavy hair, blue gray eyes. Last seen wearing a Class A Army uniform."

He passed the mic back to Steve. "Put a BOLO out on a yellow and black '95 mustang convertible. That's yellow with a black ragtop. Hawaiian Honor plates with a Bronze Star and Purple Heart, plate number MNHUNE1. Find that car and find those women."

"Now what?" Duke asked.

"We keep searching. And we wait." McGarrett went to his desk, sat down, and leaned his head against the back of his chair. "She had a doctor's appointment at Tripler this morning. To talk to a fertility specialist. She wants to be a mom. That's all, she just wants to be a mom."

"Susan went with her in case it was bad news. Maybe it wasn't."

Danny came in a few minutes later, alarmed at Steve's pale face.

"Traced the call back to a tower in Chinatown, and that's as close as I can get it for now. I'm having Maggie and Lu's phone records subpoenaed. That's about the only way you can get at them. I'm getting warrants to put a trace on your phone, Duke's, and both of theirs. I have a feeling Chicken is going to call again. When he does, keep him on the line as long as you can. If the signals bounce off enough towers, we can find him."

"Do whatever it takes."

Jenny buzzed through with a call from Chin. "Put him on," he said.

"Boss, we found the PI report. It was hidden in Chicken's cell."

"Good work. Now get it here."

"On our way," said Chin, "and you ain't gone like it at all. Neither is Duke. We'll be back in about fifteen minutes. Don't go nowhere." Chin snapped his phone shut and took off, tires squealing as he raced out of the prison yard with sirens blaring.

They didn't even bother to knock when they made it back to Iolani. Chin, wearing a pair of surgical gloves, was clutching a box that he dropped on McGarrett's desk. "We found this behind a baseboard. Nice little hole. Probably been there a while. Kono put his foot through the wall. The guards got kinda shirty about that."

"Yeah," Kono said, "Like it my fault they got a prison full of criminals."

"Opened up with the size thirteen door key. What we got, Chin?" McGarrett asked.

Chin passed over the box. "You need to put some gloves on, it hasn't been dusted yet."

McGarrett grabbed a pair of surgical gloves from his desk and slipped them on. He opened the box, staring at the contents.

"Damn." he said, sitting down and taking a deep breath. He tossed a set of gloves to Duke. "You're gonna want to look at this."

There were pictures. Lots of pictures taken by a camera with a very good telephoto lens. Pictures of Maggie, pictures of Lu. Pictures of them at work, out shopping, running PT. The pictures that were really getting to McGarrett were the ones obviously taken at the party at their house. Pictures of Maggie's sister Vinnie talking to Kono, pictures of Lu and Duke dancing, pictures of the Rose Warriors, pictures of Steve dancing with Maggie. Pictures of Mary Ann dancing with Tom. Pictures of Danny dancing with Beverly, of Chin and Jenny's kids running around the yard and down to the beach.

More pictures. Pictures of the house. Pictures of Maggie's car. Pictures of Lu's car. Pictures of Maggie and Steve walking on the beach at sunrise. Pictures of Lu and Duke taken at the beach off Diamonhead at night, the pair of them sitting on a blanket, just holding each other. A picture of McGarrett carrying Maggie into the house. Someone had taken a red marker and scrawled the caption "these two fuck like bunnies" on the photo. Pages of notes, Maggie's schedule, Lu's schedule, Beverley's duty schedule from the Navy, old duty rosters, lists of places they shopped, where they brought gas, what grocery store they frequented, where they got their nails done, where and when they did their banking, what branch of the post office they used. Pictures of Lu at Duke's house, pictures of Lu and Duke kissing on the front porch. Pictures of Duke's kids and their cars.

There were copies of Lu's, Maggie's, and Beverly's service records, including a copy of the orders assigning Beverly to Quantico for training. High dollar surveillance bought you lots of information.

Duke was quieter than usual, never a good sign.

"Whoever did this was good," Kono said. "This is all high end stuff. We need that kind of surveillance capability."

"This is all illegal," Duke said, quietly. "It's an invasion of privacy."

"What it is is scary," Kono said.

"Too scary." McGarrett said. "Kono, get this to the lab and then call the DA. I want to know how much of this is illegal and what I can do about it. I want Pacific Investigations shut down. Make it happen."

"On it, Boss," Kono said. He gathered up the pictures and papers, packing them all back into the box they had arrived in.

Danny came in a few minutes later. "Steve, the MP's from Ft Shafter found Maggie's car. It was parked at the post print shop with the alarms going off. Been there for a couple of hours before anyone bothered to check on it. Keys are still in the ignition."

"Let's go. Duke, you coming with us?"

"Try to keep me from it. MP's aren't trained for crime scenes."

* * *

The Mustang was parked under a tree, top down. Lu's beret was on the ground by the passenger door, along with a her ribbons and one of the first sergeant's chevron's from her collar. Maggie's beret was was lying on the driver's seat and her jacket had been kicked under the car. Paper samples from the portfolio provided by the print shop were blowing across the parking lot. McGarrett had called in the lab crew and two squad cars with HPD officers to comb the area for any clue as to what happened.

McGarrett found Maggie's shattered glasses by the driver's door. From the looks of the lenses, they'd hit the concrete hard and had been stepped on. Her sunglasses were on the floor under the steering wheel, still in their case. "It looks like whoever grabbed them did it just as they got back to the car."

"No tire tracks on the concrete," Che said. "Maybe I can get a partial shoe print off the glasses, but don't count on it. I had the car cleaned before I sent it home. I didn't think Maggie would have appreciated all the finger print powder. It should be fairly clean of any prints other than hers, Sergeant Yablanski's and the tech who drove it home. Anyone else is going to stand out."

"Then tow it to the lab. Find the prints, because I've got to find her."

"I know, Steve, my prayers are with you both."

"Thanks, Che. Now get me those prints."

Che nodded and called for a tow truck.

Danny was inside, interviewing the clerk.

"Yeah, I remember those two. Kinda hard to forget. Like that old cartoon, Mutt and Jeff. One of them was tiny and had this Southern drawl you could cut with a knife, the other one was tall and built. Curves for days." The clerk was an elderly Japanese man with a fixation for tall blondes.

"Do you remember what time they came in?" Danny asked.

"Just before noon. I was getting ready to close for lunch when they came in. The little one wanted to know how much lead time she needed for wedding invitations, cause she was going to have to move the date up, on account of the baby."

"What?" Danny asked.

"The baby. They were going to get married on his birthday in December, only now they were going to have to move it up to hers in October. Cause of the baby. Guess she still wants to fit into that white dress." The man chuckled at his own joke.

"Shit." Danny said, closing his notebook. That was one bit of news he didn't want to deliver to his boss.

Compton and Marks were helping at the crime scene, picking up and bagging any bits of evidence they could find. Compton saw the three by five card caught in the floral border of the curb. He carefully picked it up by the corner, read the front, and nearly dropped it.

"Crap." he said and went to find Sgt Lukela.

"Sgt Lukela," he said after he found Duke instructing a pair of MP's in proper crime scene procedure. "Man, I don't know what to do with this. I'm not giving it to him."

"Robbie, what are you talking about?" Duke asked.

"This, man. It's from the hospital." He gave Duke the card.

Duke read the message printed on the front. "You did a good job, Robbie." Duke said, giving Compton a pat on the back. "I'll let him know."

"Thanks, Sergeant. I'm sorry to hear about your girlfriend. She's tough. If anyone can survive this, she can. My money's on those two women."

"I'll keep that in mind." He walked over to where McGarrett was waiting by his car.

"Find anything useful?" Steve asked.

"Steve, you better sit down for this one." He gave Steve the card. "Compton found it in the bushes. He didn't want to tell you. This is not how you should have found out."

McGarrett was staring at the card. He sat down sideways on the big Mercury's front seat, long legs out the door. "Maggie's pregnant. She's going to have my baby. This is time stamped for this morning. She didn't even get a chance to tell me. Duke, I've got to find her."

"We'll find them, Steve." Duke said.

Danny joined them. Steve was sitting with his head down, staring at the card. "You okay there, Steve?" he asked.

"Maggie's going to have a baby. We didn't think it was possible. We're going to be the oldest parents in the car line at kindergarten."

"Steve, you are not making any sense," Danny said. "We've done all we can here. I'm having the lab pull the footage from every security camera in the six block radius from here to Tripler. With luck we'll find something. Let's get back to Iolani and find those creeps. And I'm driving. You look like you're about to pass out."

* * *

Chicken was having a good time going through the names in Maggie and Lu's phones. He had at his fingertips every contact number Five-O had as well as more from the Army. The big blonde's held several unpublished numbers for HPD, and as a bonus, her daughter's and ex-husband's. Chicken loved the idea of psychological torture. He'd used it many times in maximum security. Break a man's mind, and their body was yours to do with as you willed.

He hit the speed dial button. The voice on the other end said "Lu, what the hell. You never call on Monday or this late. What's up?"

"You must be the charming sergeant's ex-husband. So nice to meet you. You see, I've got your ex wife and her friend here. I wanted you to know that whatever happens to them, it's all McGarrett and Lukela's fault." Big Chicken loved to gloat. He'd gotten good at it over the years.

"Who the hell is this?" demanded the voice on the phone.

"Just someone who's going to make sure those two get what they deserve. Too bad your ex has to suffer for their sins."

"What the hell are you talking about and how do I know you've got her? You could just have her damned phone."

"Oh, I'll be most happy to let her speak to you. But only for a minute, as she may say bad things about me that simply are not true." He held the phone up to Lu's face. "Talk to the man and I won't hurt you or your little friend there."

"Andy," Lu said. "Call Duke Lukela and Steve McGarrett at Five-O." she managed before Chicken snatched the phone away and slapped her hard across the face.

"Bad girl," he said, "Look what she went and made me do. I wouldn't pay any attention to what your ex wife said. She's been carrying on with Lukela for some time now. Pity, fine woman like her with that Hawaiian street cop. She should know better. Ciao." He hung up the phone.

* * *

They got back to Iolani to find Kono waiting.

"I got a warrant and a cease and desist order to close down Pacific I&S, Boss. Your's isn't the first complaint against them. The AG has wanted to go after them for a while. All he needed was evidence." he said, looking grim. "I want to deliver it myself. Got a HPD chopper standing by."

"Go," McGarret said. "Bring the owner here for booking in case he's got friends on the Maui police force and is thinking about calling in favors."

"On it." He ran out the building to the chopper waiting in the parking lot.

"Sgt Lukela," Jenny said, "There's a Lieutenant Colonel Yablanski on the phone for you."

"That's Susan's ex husband. I'll take it here." He took the phone from Jenny's hand. "Lukela."

"I just got a call from a man claiming he's holding my ex wife and her friend hostage. I'm betting he's talking about Maggie Alden. Is this true?" The voice had a slight European accent that Duke couldn't place.

"Unfortunately, yes. We're trying our best to locate them."

"Who's got them?" Yablanski asked.

"Two thugs who were recently released from prison and a lowlife with a DD from the Navy. We're doing our best to find them. We will find them. I have to find Susan," Duke said.

"The one doing the talking said you were having a thing with her. Are you?"

"It's more than a thing, sir. I'm going to marry her. Susan makes my world a better place."

"Yes, I suspect she does. Do me a favor and put McGarrett on the phone."

"Steve," Duke said, "Lieutenant Colonel Yablanski wants to talk to you." He handed Steve the phone.

"McGarrett," he said.

"I know you by reputation. Former NIS, occasional CIA operative, da yadda, da yadda, all around good cop and basic hard ass. Someone's got Lu and Maggie Alden. I'm going to help you get them back. A hostage rescue team should be arriving at your office about now."

The sound of squealing tires and and slamming doors floated up from the parking lot. Then the sound of boots on the ground.

"The man in charge is Captain Peterson. He's a good troop. Trained him myself."

"We appreciate the help, sir, only we haven't managed to locate them."

"You have to do it soon. Check your email. There's a classified report about both those two you need to see. What it says is they won't back down. They can't. It's not in their makeup. They won't cooperate with the kidnappers and the first chance they get they'll strike back. You need to get to them before that happens, because they will die before they give in to a threat."

"I know the monsters holding them. They're animals. It's only a matter of time before those creeps try something unspeakable."

"You need to get to them before they do. If you don't, it's going to be bad. They've both got cell phones. As soon as I'm off this line, call Johnathan Kaye and tell him I said to turn on Archangel."

"What's Archangel."

"Classified. Just know it works. This Lukela, is he a good man?"

"One of the best."

"Good. Put him back on the line and call Johnathan."

McGarrett handed the phone back to Duke.

"Lukela," Yablanski said. "About ten years ago I fucked up a situation so badly there was no way to unfuck it. That's when Lu divorced me. You're already one up on me. She let's you call her Susan. I never got to. Find her. Call me when you do."

"Will do, sir. And thank you." He gave Jenny the receiver for hang up.

* * *

McGarrett went to his office, picked up the secure phone, and dialed Johnathan Kaye.

Kaye picked up on the third ring.

"Jonathan, this is Steve McGarrett. I've got two missing Army sergeant's. I just spoke to Lt Colonel Yablanski. He said to turn on Archangel."

"You just spoke to Andreaus Yablanski? This must be serious. What two army sergeants are missing? And, officially, there's no such thing as Archangel."

"The two women missing are his ex wife Susan and Margaret Alden. They're both stationed out at Ft Shafter. They were snatched around noon today. We've got to find them. I have to find them."

"Maggie Alden, Micheal Alden's widow, and Yablanski's ex? This is not good."

"He said to turn on Archangel. Whatever the hell that means. If it means finding them, turn the damned thing on!"

"How do you know those women?"

"Damnit, Jonathan, I don't have time for questions. Maggie's my fiance, and she's pregnant. I need to find her and find her now!"

"Fiance? When did this happen? You got the cell phone numbers for those women? Give them to me."

McGarrett gave him the numbers. "What good is that going to do? We've got traces and trackers on ever tower on this Rock trying to pinpoint their location."

"Yes, but you don't have Archangel, even if it did exist. Give me about half an hour. I'll have the location for you. And, Steve, this is highly classified. The only reason I'm doing it now is as a favor to you and Andreaus, and because Micheal Alden wrote the damned program." He hung up the phone.

McGarrett sat there, staring at the receiver, then he shook his head as if to clear it. His brain shifted into cop mode; he was ready to go to work.

He booted up his computer, checked his email, and found the report sent by Lt. Colonel Yablanski. Part of it were blotted out, but the facts were there. In 1988 then Sergeant First Class Yablanski and Staff Sergeant Alden attended an anti-terrorism class sponsored by the Special Forces Unit stationed at Bad Toltz, Germany. It was a two week long class highlighting the current list of terrorist organizations operating in Europe and the Middle East, their ideology and their tactics, as well as classes on what to do in case of an attack. The top two students from each class were then selected for further hands on training, the catch being they weren't told they'd been selected, had no idea what was about to happen, and were to be abducted off the street, as if it were a real terrorist kidnapping. Maggie and Lu were the top two in their class. They were abducted from a department store in downtown Munich at ten in the morning. They were suppose to be held for up to a week, depending on how long it took to 'break' them. Instead, it was called off after two days. What the operatives running the classes hadn't expected were two women who'd fight like cornered cats. The exercise was halted after what was suppose to be a simulated rape. Lu hadn't been told it was simulated, and when the operative had whipped out his wedding tackle, she had retaliated with a move commonly known as the twisting peach plucker. She'd ripped one of the man's testicles off in the process. Maggie, who's hands were cuffed behind her back had a more direct approach. She'd gone for the other man's throat with her teeth. He'd almost bled to death before they got him to the hospital. After that the French operative had christened her 'La Petite Loup Garou', the Little Werewolf.

The psyche profile done afterward indicated that both women were strong minded, intelligent and inventive individuals who were resistant to damned near any type of coercion other than drug therapy. Staff Sergeant Alden was one of the few subjects ever to be classified as immune to hypnosis. The CIA and various other alphabet agencies had tried to recruit both women after that. Lu's response included a reference to the horse they rode in on and Maggie's was a simple acronym: FOADB*.

No wonder Hardin ended up on the floor with a size five military pump in his ear.

He printed a copy of the report and gave it to Duke.

Duke read it and smiled. "That's my Kukana."

Steve's secure line rang. "McGarrett," he said, hoping like hell Jonathan had information he could use.

"81 North King Street. It's an abandoned bank building. It's built like a damned fortress. I'm having the plans sent to your office now. Good luck."

"Thanks, Jonathan. I owe you a big one. When do you tell me what Archangel is?"

"I don't. It doesn't exist. Officially." he hung up.

* * *

*Fuck off and die, bitch.


	15. Chapter 15

_Warning: This chapter contains scenes of violence toward women, most of it implied._

 _Course language._

 _Very intense situations. You have been warned..._

 _I have been reassured by several people who should know that there is no such thing as Archangel. Really. Nope, doesn't exist at all..._

* * *

McGarrett, Williams, Lukela, Cpt Peterson, and the captian of HPD's SWAT team were all clustered around the table in McGarrett's office where the maps were laid out. 81 North King Street was in the middle of the block, an abandoned bank building erected in the seventies, made of concrete and steel. The front windows were boarded up and the doors had been replaced by solid steel security doors. To the left was a two story building that housed grocery and variety stores on the ground floor and vacant storage areas on the second. The building to the right was multi use building that had a wig store on the corner and not much else. Getting into the building without alerting Chicken and his cronies was going to be difficult at best.

McGarrett had already sent Chin to the area to have a look around. He'd reported a white van with Navy markings parked in the alley behind the building. A quick look at the security camera footage from Tripler's front gate had a good shot of the same van following Maggie's Mustang. A call to the Navy confirmed that the van had been stolen the night before. Now McGarrett knew how the women had been transported off Ft Shafter.

The cell tower Danny had traced Chicken's first call back to was located half a block down King Street.

McGarrett checked his watch. Almost five. They were waiting for sunset. They would move in under the cover of darkness.

"How accurate is Archangel?" McGarrett asked.

"Classified, or it would be if it existed," said Peterson. "Just know that if that's the address you got from Mr. Kaye, it's good."

"I've heard rumor," Danny said. "At the seminar at Quantico. I don't know how much of it is true, but if it is it's a paranoid's nightmare. Rumor has it every cell phone made has a tracking program built in. One that can only be accessed by the NSA and a few other alphabet agencies. It's suppose to be able to track a cell phone within two feet."

"I'll worry about the paranoids later. Today I'm just happy it's in there." McGarrett said.

"How are we going to move our people into the area without the noise giving it away?" Duke asked.

"Easy," said Peterson, "We give them the Noriega treatment. We've got two trucks with speakers and amps ready to go when you give us the heads up. Put one at each end of the block, instant party." Peterson was a big blond farm boy type from one of those large, flat states in the Midwest with a love of pyrotechnics that could have proved troublesome had not the Army given him an outlet for his hobby. Duke understood this all too well, having once had the same love for exploding ordinance. Two tours of duty in Vietnam had cured him. Peterson, on the other hand, seemed to have found his life's calling.

McGarrett's private line rang. He pressed the record button, put the phone on speaker, and answered on the second ring. "McGarrett."

"Mr. McGarrett," Big Chicken said. "How are you this fine evening? Lovely outside, isn't it? A nice evening for a walk on the beach. Too bad your lady friend is indisposed."

"What do you want, Chicken?" he asked, trying to keep Chicken on the line and talking on the premise that if he was talking he couldn't hurt Maggie or Lu.

"What do I want, Mr. McGarrett? I want retribution. I want justice. I want to see you hurting. I want you to suffer, sitting there in your office, knowing I have the one thing you really want and that you will never be able to get it back unless I give it to you. The same goes for Sgt. Lukela. We have something he wants. You both cost me time and money and locked me away for years. It's time for payback. It's a pity that Officer Williams' little sailor couldn't join us."

"If you want any of us, all you have to do is ask. We'll meet you anywhere, anytime. Let those women go."

"Mr. McGarrett, Mr. McGarrett, where would be the fun in that?" Chicken said in the same slow drawling voice , each word carefully chosen to chill the blood of his listener. "I can't let them go because I can't get to you any other way. You can't be bought, and you refuse to die. This is what we're going to do. We're going to have a little party with these fine ladies. When we're done with them, I doubt they're going to ever want another man to touch them again and that includes you and the good sergeant and you get to remember what we did to them every time you look at them. The party starts now. I do so love technology. No wires to trace." There was the sound of a zipper going down. "Open up, Sgt Alden, Chicken has something for you."

"Don't touch her!" McGarrett said through clenched teeth. He wasn't use to feeling helpless. Duke wasn't doing much better. His face had gone unnaturally pale and his jaw was clenched tight. Everyone in the room listened, horrified.

When Maggie spoke the hate that was in her voice was plainly evident. "Anything you try to put in my mouth, you lose," she said.

"You bite me and I will kill you." Chicken said.

"No, you won't." Maggie said, sounding disgusted. "You need us alive to get off this Rock. You kill us, you lose your leverage. Go ahead, kill me. Try to put that thing in my mouth and you'll have a dead hostage and no dick!"

Chicken slapped her, hard, across the face.

"The same goes for me, you fat bastard," Lu said. "Anything you try to stick in my mouth, you lose. With extreme prejudice. You ain't got jack shit! Come up through the ranks like we did, you learn how to take care of yourself and how to fight back. You'll have to kill us first, and then where will you be?"

"Shut up!" Chicken screamed. "Barker, gag them."

Barker gagged both women. He couldn't resist grabbing both Lu's breasts as he did. Barker had spent most of his life just this side of the law. His association with Chicken and Collins had given him the opportunity to stretch his wings and try a few new things. He'd enjoyed the hell out of strangling Roxie during sex. Now he couldn't wait to do the same to that big blonde. The only thing holding him back was the simple fact that he was scared spitless of Collins. He unzipped his pants and took Lu's bound hands, forcing them around his penis. "Yeah, baby, it's not going in your mouth but you're gonna take care of it."

Lu had had enough of Barker, Collins, and Chicken, she looked up at Barker, giving him what he thought was a look of total helplessness. She stroked him a few times, just to get his attention, then she grabbed, squeezed, twisted, and pulled down, hard. Barker let out a blood curdling scream and fell to the floor, clutching his testicles.

"Bitch, I'm going to kill you myself!" Barker screamed.

"Chicken," McGarrett said in a calm, icy voice. "If you hurt either of those women I will hunt you down like the animal you are. I don't care where you go, or how long it takes, I will find you."

"Mr. McGarrett, you are oh so predictable," Chicken said. "We shall speak again. Ciao."

Chicken hung up.

McGarrett sat down, his face in his hands.

"You okay?" Danny asked.

"I can't take much more of this." McGarrett said. "This morning I left without telling her good-bye. She was sleeping and I didn't want to wake her. I fussed at her once, for not waking me to tell me good-bye. I told her it was because you never know with cops. That it could be the last time. Then I left this morning without telling her good-bye or how much I love her."

"She knows, Steve," Danny said, gently. "You can tell her soon. It's going to be alright."

"We'll be ready for roll out in about half an hour, sir," Cpt Peterson said. "Time to suit up. Got any requests for music. Anything that'll clue the hostages in that the cavalry is on the way."

McGarrett thought for a minute. "Al Stewart, _Year of the Cat_. Play that one first. Then if you want loud, AC/DC. Maggie's got a thing for heavy metal. Thunderstruck followed by Hell's Bells. Play that loud enough and you could bomb Pearl Harbor and never hear it."

* * *

Everything was ready. Honolulu Power had killed the streetlights and from Maunakea to Smith Street. Public works had set up a construction detour around the area. Infrared satellite imagery courtesy of Johnathan Kaye and Lt Colonel Yablanski, indicated five people in the first floor center of the building, in a room that was once the bank lobby before all the counters and fixtures had been removed, leaving only a cavernous space with dim lighting. Duke and Peterson would lead the teams responsible for attaching the explosives to the doors.

Everyone was wearing black fatigues and Kevlar vests. Duke had an M-16A4 slung across his back, his .357 service revolver at his hip, and a 1911 Colt .45 in a shoulder holster. Everyone was wired for sound with high tech earpiece/microphone combinations provided by the hostage rescue team that were soon to be at the top of Five-O's wish list. He was leading the team that would enter through the back. He had half the hostage rescue team, four swat officers, and Compton and Marks, who'd volunteered for the rescue mission.

McGarret and Danny were out front with Peterson and his gang. Waiting.

It was pitch dark.

Inside, Maggie and Lu were still tied to the chairs. Maggie's back hurt like hell and the pain seemed to be spreading to her lower abdomen. Lu was plain damned angry and looking for the next target of opportunity.

From outside, Al Stewart started singing about a morning from a Bogart movie.

Maggie nudged Lu.

"Heads up, girlfriend." she said, voice muffled by the gag. "I think somethings about to happen."

"What the hell is that noise?" Collins asked.

"Must be a party across the street at that Chinese place. Probably some chink holiday." Chicken said.

"Sounds like someone strangling a cat." Collins observed.

Al Stewart melted away as Thunderstruck blasted through the evening.

"Now we're talking," said Collins. "That's party music."

The last cord from Thunderstruck died. Then a bell started tolling, deep, evenly spaced peals.

"What the hell?" Chicken asked.

Maggie had managed to get her gag loosened.

"He's coming for you." she said.

Hell's Bells rang through the street.

The music died.

Then a voice over a bullhorn.

"This is McGarrett. We've got you surrounded. You've got five minutes to come out with your hands up or we're coming in for you."

Chicken looked at Collins. "How did they find us? Barker, you idiot, were you followed?"

McGarrett looked at his watch.

"Fuck it," he said, activating the com link on the earpiece. "Blow those damned doors now!"

Explosions rocked the street. The doors blew open. The hostage rescue team stormed in.

Chicken cut the ropes tying Maggie to the chair. He jerk her to her feet, gun pointed at her head.

Duke and his team poured through the doors at the back of the building, guns drawn.

McGarrett's team kicked down what was left of the doors to the lobby where Chicken was holding the women. Guns at the ready.

Lu was still tied to the chair. Barker was having trouble standing up. He held a Glock 9, pointing it at Lu.

"Drop the gun, Chicken. Let her go and drop the gun and you get to walk out of here alive." McGarrett said.

"Maybe I don't want to walk out of here, Mr. McGarrett. If I kill her, it's all your fault and you get to spend the rest of your life knowing she died because of you."

Duke was slowly moving behind Chicken, waiting for the right moment to make his move.

"Let her go Chicken. This has nothing to do with her or Lu. Let them go."

"Never, Mr. McGarrett." Chicken appeared as greasy and demented as ever. He never changed tone, each word a dagger aimed at his victims heart, in the slow, drawling cadence he had acquired through years of violence and intimidation. "I've got you where I want you. I love seeing you suffer. Even if you kill me, I'll go to my grave knowing you will spend the rest of your life regretting that you let her die. All because you don't know when to back down."

Maggie doubled over in pain as the first cramp hit, causing Chicken's grip on her shoulder to loosen. Duke saw the opening and fired his .45, hitting Chicken in the lower back, exploding his spine. Chicken went down, alive but badly wounded.

Collins fired the shotgun, hitting Compton low on the right side. McGarret fired twice, putting a single round from the .45 through Collins' forehead and one through Barker's right shoulder.

Compton went down, cursing. Duke stopped momentarily to check him, deciding that anyone cursing like that was going to survive. The wound looked worse than it was. Compton had been lucky. The shotgun Collins had been waving around had been loaded with birdshot, and most of that had went into his Kevlar vest. The rest of the birdshot went into his hip and upper thigh. He gave Compton a reassuring pat on the shoulder and stepped over to where Big Chicken lay bleeding on the floor.

Duke kicked Chicken in the head, twice. Because he could and because it made him feel better. He kicked the gun out of Chicken's hand. He crossed to where Barker was writhing on the floor, kicked his gun out of reach, bent down, and jerked Barker to his feet. "You'll live," he said, "unless you hurt her, then I swear I will kill you myself." He caught Barker with a backhand that sent the scrawny creep flying into the wall. Then he went to Susan.

"Susan, baby, my Kukana." he whispered, he took off the gag and wrapped her in his arms, holding her like he'd never let go, covering her face with soft kisses.

"Duke, sweetie," she said, "unless you've go something really kinky in mind, could you please untie me?"

"Sorry," he said, taking out his pocketknife and cutting the ropes.

"Robbie's been hurt," she said.

"Looks superficial. I think he'll be okay. Ambulances are standing by."

Maggie lay on the floor in a small heap, McGarrett kneeling by her side.

"Maggie, baby," he said, scooping her up and holding her close, "are you okay."

"Hurts. Oh, god, please no! Not again." she whispered as she fainted.

There was blood everywhere. He couldn't tell if it was her's or Chicken's.

"Get a damned EMT in here now!" he yelled.

The EMT's were already coming through the door. "Women and police officers, first." Duke said. "I don't care if those two bleed out on the floor." No one had ever seen Duke Lukela that angry before.

McGarrett gently placed Maggie on the gurney. "She's pregnant," he told the EMT's. "She's due in February."

The EMT was shining a light in her eyes. "Get an IV started STAT! She's bleeding out. Doesn't look like she was shot. Christ, she won't live to make it to Tripler. She's going to Queens. Now!"

McGarrett refused to leave her. He was on the com link as the medics were loading her into the ambulance. "Chin, get a chopper and get to Tripler. Find a Dr. Sessums. She's Maggie's doctor. Get her to Queens."

"Gotcha, anything else?" Chin asked.

"See if you can get her medical records sent over."

"Maggie going to be okay?" Chin asked.

"She'd better be."

The medic was on the radio, reading the info off Maggie's dogtags. "We're going to need as much O positive blood as you can get your hands on. Have a team from OB/GYN standing by. And one from ortho. She's got all kinds of hardware holding her spine together. Make sure the ER staff knows no MRI's under any circumstances. Got that? All the O positive blood you can round up and no MRI's!"

"Hold on, baby," Steve said, holding her hand. "Stay with me, my little _Menehune_."

* * *

Dr. Sessums had just got done with what she hoped would be the last delivery of the day, a healthy baby girl. She was looking forward to going home and soaking in the tub for about an hour and then going to bed. As she stepped into the corridor outside the birthing suite, she knew instinctively knew that wasn't going to happen.

A older Chinese man in black fatigues was waiting for her. He took out a badge. "Chin Ho Kelly from Five-O. There's a chopper standing by to take you to Queens Hospital. It's Sgt Alden."

"Oh, god," she said, "What's happened."

"I'm not sure. All I know is the Big Man said to get you there. Whatever it is, it can't be good."

Dr. Sessums nodded. Her area was women's health. She didn't really follow the news unless it directly effected her patients. She hadn't realized that Sgt Alden's fiance and the father of her baby was the head of Five-O until one of the nurses had pointed it out to her. She had a bad feeling something had gone horribly wrong.

"Give me a minute to grab my bag," she said, running to the locker room.

Five minutes later the chopper was airborne and on it's way to Queens.

* * *

The trauma unit at Queen's Hospital was the best in the Islands. Maggie was whisked down the corridor into an exam room within seconds of her arrival. IV lines attached to blood bags were inserted into one arm and into the vein at her neck.

"BP 85 over 60 and dropping!"

"Get the O2 going," shouted the trauma surgeon on duty. "Express that blood bag. Get her clothes off and find that damned OB!"

Dr. Sessums ran in breathless from the sprint across the parking lot. "I'm her OB. Get a fetal monitor on her, STAT! Who the hell is that?" she asked, pointing to a tall man in black fatigues standing at the back of the room.

"He's one of the cops who brought her in," the nurse said. "That's McGarrett from Five-O."

"He's her fiance. Get him the out of here, now!"

"I'm not leaving her." McGarrett said.

"Yes, you are." Dr Sessums said. "And you're going now or I'm calling security. I need to do my job without worrying about your reactions. OUT!"

One of the nurses took his arm. "This way, sir," she said gently.

He allowed himself to be led into the hallway. Chin was there, waiting. Duke came in soon after, arriving just after the ambulance bringing in Compton. Lu was with Duke, protesting she didn't need to see a doctor. Chicken and Barker were brought in, Chicken unconscious, Barker complaining loudly about police brutality until Duke told him that if he really wanted police brutality, he would be happy arrange some.

Danny was still at the crime scene, tying up loose ends and gathering evidence. Duke had already given him the .45 he'd used to shoot Chicken. It was standard procedure. He needed to collect and bag the weapon McGarrett had used to shoot Collins and Barker. IA and the Review Board were going to want answers to some questions real soon. Duke took one look at McGarrett and knew the man was in no shape to answer anyone's questions.

McGarrett stood by the trauma room, far enough away from the door not to be in the way but close enough to hear what was going on. Lu, still in her rumpled and torn uniform, hair a mess and huge bruise starting to bloom on her cheek, went to him.

"Steve, honey, she's going to be okay. This is nothing compared to what the damned Republican Guard did to her. She's a fighter. You'll see." She wrapped her arms around him in a motherly hug. He hugged her back, resting his head on her shoulder, eyes closed.

"Thank you," he said. "Could you tell me what happened? I need to know."

Lu pulled back from his embrace. "Duke was asking the same thing. I think I can tell this one time tonight, and that's it. Both of you, over here." She led them to a where a pair of sofa's met at right angles in a small alcove. She sat down, indicating for Duke to sit by her. McGarrett took the opposite sofa, with Chin hovering near, notebook out, ready to take her statement.

"We left Tripler around noon. We were going to go to Iolani. Maggie wanted to tell you about the baby, Steve. Oh, god, she was so happy. I thought I'd drag Duke out of there for lunch, or at least to take a break. Only we decided to stop by the print shop first, to see how fast they could get the invitations done, because she was going to have to move the wedding date up. We got paper samples and schedules and prices and all that stuff in a portfolio. We were walking back to the car, and she had the card from the hospital out. She kept looking at it. Like she had to convince herself it was real. There was a white van parked next to the car. We didn't think anything of it because it had Navy markings all over it. I thought it was some sailor picking up an order from the print shop. Only the big one was waiting in front of the van and that skinny creep Barker was behind the tree. The big one tried to grab Maggie, only she kicked him in the knee, and when she did, he hit her across the back with what looked like a riot baton. Barker put a knife to my throat and threatened to kill me if I screamed. Then he held a rag to my face that had some sort of smelly chemical on it and the next thing I knew I woke up with hood over my head tied to a chair. And that's about it until you guys showed up like knights in shining armor and rescued us poor damsels in distress." The last was hard to understand. She was sobbing and holding on to Duke, her face buried against his neck. The nurse came over and told them there was an exam room ready for her. Duke helped her to her feet and walked with her down the hall, his arm protectively around her waist.

He was back as soon as he had her settled in the exam room. "I called Colonel Dale and let him know we found them. He's going to let Ivory Thompson know that Robbie was hurt and he'll bring her in with him. He should be here soon."

"He's a good commander." McGarrett said.

"Yes, he is. I had Peterson call Susan's ex husband. I don't have his phone number and their phones are still part of the crime scene. I told Peterson to have him call me if he needs to talk to Susan."

McGarrett nodded.

Dr. Sessums came out of the trauma room, looking grim. McGarrett got up to meet her.

"I know we haven't been formerly introduced," she said. "I'm Dr. Sessums, Sgt Alden's OB/GYN." She held out a hand.

"Steve McGarrett," he said, taking the surprisingly strong hand in his, "Maggie's fiance. Please, Doctor, any news."

"She's being prepped for surgery now. You're about to get a crash course in human reproduction. As you know the fetus is attached to the uterine wall by the placenta. Sometimes the placenta tears away from the uterine wall. This is called placental abruption. It is an extremely serious condition and can be a very dangerous one for the mother. That's what happened to Sgt Alden. From the looks of things, and from what she was able to tell us, which isn't much, is that she took a very hard hit to the lower back. Then she was tied to a chair for several hours and finally that she was jerked to her feet and held at gunpoint. Chances are they placenta was torn when she was hit. She was probably bleeding internally for hours. When she was moved abruptly, the tear was complete, causing the hemorrhage. I'm going to go in and try to stop it."

"What about the baby?" he asked, not wanting to know the answer.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McGarrett. There's no easy way to say this. There's no fetal heartbeat. She's lost the baby."

He stood there, suddenly feeling older than time. He nodded, slowly. "Can I see her before she goes to surgery?"

"Yes," Dr. Sessums said. "You can have about five minutes. This way please. And, please, she's on some serious painkillers right now. Don't expect her to make a lot of sense and don't expect her to remember any of this afterwards."

Maggie was lying on a hospital bed, IV's in both arms and one at her throat, hooked up to machines that beeped and chirped and buzzed. He placed his hand on her forehead, pushing back a stray lock of hair, and kissed her softly.

"Maggie, sweetie, can you hear me?" he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused without her glasses and from the pain medication. "Steve, you're here. I knew you'd come for us."

"You know I can't live without my little _Menehune_ ," he said.

She tried to smile. It faded before it got to the corner of her mouth. "Everything hurts and Dr Sessums says I need surgery. Don't let them take our baby." She was crying, fat tears were running down her cheeks.

"Hush," he said. "Don't cry. Everything is going to be okay. I love you."

The nurse came in. She gave him a small plastic bag containing Maggie's jewelry and dog tags. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave now, sir. We have to take her down to surgery."

He kissed her before they took her away.

Dr. Sessums caught up with him at the door. "The ortho docs want to talk to you next. They get her after I'm done. You better get some coffee. Its going to be a long night."


	16. Chapter 16

It was turning into the longest night of McGarrett's life.

After Dr. Sessums had left, he'd sat down, head in his hands, feeling the life drain from him.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and looking up, saw Duke standing there.

"I heard what the doctor said. I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do, let me know."

Steve nodded. "At this point about the only thing I can think of is pray. I'm all out of other options."

"I hate to bring it up, but the sooner this is done the better. I need the gun you shot Collins and Barker with."

Steve handed over the .45. Duke took out the clip and ejected the round from the chamber before bagging the weapon for the lab. "I shot Collins?"

"And Barker. Barker's alive. Collins is stone dead. You put one through his head, just above his right eye."

"How's Compton? I like that kid. He's got potential."

"Going into surgery in about an hour. Ivory's with him. Colonel Dale got here a few minutes ago. He's talking to Susan now. I think he's going to order her to stay here overnight. He's probably the only man on this Rock she can't argue with."

"What about Big Chicken."

"Waiting for surgery. He'll live. He may not want to, but he'll survive."

"Why's that?"

"My shot shattered his spine. The doctors are saying he's going to be paralyzed from the waist down."

"He did say he didn't care if he walked out of there. Guess he got his wish."

"Sometimes karma wins one," Duke said quietly.

McGarrett was staring into space and doing a good job of scaring the hell out of Duke. When he did speak, his tone was so low he could barely be heard. "Last night, god that seems so long ago now, we were lying in bed, and she's sleeping. I've go my hand on her tummy, and there's this little flutter that's so soft you can hardly feel it. Then it was there again, like something very tiny had rolled over in its sleep to get into a more comfortable position. She never woke up. She never knew. I can never tell her." He took a deep breath, trying to think, trying to put thoughts into words. "Chicken murdered our child before it got a chance to live. He's going to pay for that."

"He already is, Steve. He'll be spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair."

"That's not enough," McGarrett said quietly.

"Which one of you is Mr. McGarrett," asked a tall man in surgical scrubs and a lab coat.

"Over here," Steve said.

"I'm Dr. Barrett," the man said. "I'm going to be doing the surgery on Sgt Alden's spine. Could you come with me a minute, please. This will be easier to explain if I show you the pictures."

Steve followed him to the nurses station, where the x-rays were hanging from the light boxes. "Have you ever seen her x-rays before?" Barrett asked.

"No, but if the scars from the surgery are any indication it can't be good." Steve said.

"These may be a little disquieting at first glance." He turned on the light boxes. The metal holding Maggie's spine together glowed on the films. There was a lot of it. "As you can see, there was extensive damage done during the initial injury. Fortunately, it's well healed. However, it did leave one weak spot, here at L-4 and L-5 and that's where the new injury is located. As soon as Dr. Sessums is done, I'm going in and fusing both those. Then I'm going to repair the damage done when she was hit this last time. That means taking out the old hardware and putting in new. It's not a complicated procedure, just a time consuming one. Six to eight hours, and that's after Dr Sessums is done. I don't think there's any nerve damage, but I've got a neurosurgeon standing by, just in case."

"How soon will you know if there is any nerve damage?"

"She was in a lot of pain before we put her out. In this case, that's a damned good indication that everything is working. I'd be more concerned if she wasn't in pain. Like that man with the bullet in his back. He's not going to be feeling anything below the waist ever again. I understand he is responsible for Sgt Alden's injuries."

"Her's and a lot of other people's. He would have killed her if the officer hadn't shot him."

Barrett nodded. Working in trauma was an education in the human experience. "I'm expecting Sgt Alden to make a full recovery. It will take time, but I think she's going to be fine. If you will excuse me, I've got to get scrubbed and brief my OR team. I'll see you around daybreak."

Steve went back to the waiting room. Lu and Colonel Dale were there, Lu in surgical scrubs and wearing Duke's fatigue shirt. Duke must have told them about the baby. Lu was clinging to Duke, crying.

"I'm sorry, son," the Colonel said, squeezing McGarrett's shoulder. "Is she going to be okay?"

"The doctor says she should be fine, only that the surgery is going to take a while. You may as well go home. She's going to be in there until the morning."

"I'm not going anywhere," Lu said. "This is Walter Reed all over. We kept each other alive there, we'll do it again here."

"I didn't know you were at Walter Reed," Duke said.

"It's one of those things that neither of us likes to talk about. I was there for cancer treatment. She was there learning how to walk again. My ex always said that if they separated us something bad would happen. She was on a convoy that got mortared and I ended up with cancer. That's the only thing he and I ever managed to agree on." She started crying again as Duke held her. "It was horrible. She was hurt and Michael was dead. The damned war was over and I had to pack up her things for storage because no one knew if she was going to be able to stay in the Army. I had just got back to Germany. All I wanted to do was get my daughter back home and have a semi normal life. Then I found the damned lump and the mammogram found more and then there was a biopsy and the next thing I know I'm packing up my things because I'm going to Walter Reed for cancer treatment. Lumpectomy, radiation and chemo. I got lucky, I got to keep the girls." She took a deep breath. To her Duke always smelled of salt water, patchouli and coco butter, masculine and comforting. "We were both a mess. She was doing physical therapy about six hours a day, and if I wasn't doing chemo it was radiation. My hair was falling out in clumps. Hers was just starting to come back in, only whoever had cut hers had done an awful job and it was growing out in uneven hanks. Both of us looked like bone racks. She either couldn't or wouldn't eat and the chemo made me so nauseous I couldn't keep a damned thing down." Duke understood this. He'd gone though the same process with his wife. He still had nightmares that he hadn't done enough to help her. "Anyway, one day she gets the medic to wheel her over to the cancer ward. She says we both need some sun, so they round up another wheelchair because I'm too damned weak to walk more than a few feet without fainting and off we go down this walking path to this nice park with some trees and a few rosebushes and she tells our chauffeurs to beat it for about an hour." She looked up, giving Duke, Steve, and Colonel Dale a rueful look. "I probably shouldn't be telling this to a couple of cops and my CO, but what the hell, it was years ago and we didn't get caught. Maggie gets this crazy little half smile, I know you've all seen it, the one that let's you know she's up to something, and she pulls this plastic baggie out of her pocket and it's got six of the biggest, fattest, juiciest joints I've ever seen in it, not that I've ever seen fat, juicy joints before, never touch the stuff. Really, never. She said she'd heard that marijuana was good for nausea and she knew it'd give you the munchies and since neither of us were able to eat, we might as well give it try. We got stoned off our asses. But we both ate our dinner and our breakfast and managed to keep it down for the first time in weeks. That next day we both went to barber shop. She got crewcut to even out the mess the medics had left and I had my head shaved. Remind me to show you the pictures one day. I weighed 97 pounds and was bald. Not a good look for me. And that's how we survived Walter Reed. By smoking too much weed and raising hell with the medics."

"My Kukana," Duke whispered, holding her close. "I knew you were special the first time I saw you." He ran his fingers through her soft curls, wondering if he'd ever be able to tell her just how precious she had become to him.

Steve even managed a slight smile. Colonel Dale just shook his head. There wasn't much those two could get up to that surprised him anymore.

Duke heard his daughter call his name. "Dad! Mom! We heard the news and got here as soon as we could." Eddie and Lillie were crushing them both in a huge hug.

"I thought I told you to stay at Kala's*," he said, trying to sound stern and failing badly.

"It's all over the news, Dad," Eddie said, "You and Five-O are famous for bringing in those creeps and rescuing Mom. Hilo PD got us a ride on a Coast Guard chopper and HPD met us at the heliport. Good thing we got out of there when we did. What's left of a hurricane is moving in and nothing else is going to be flying until the day after tomorrow."

"Yes," said Lillie. "I'm so proud of you, Dad. You got Mom back for us."

"Hey, wait a minute!' Lu said. "What's with the mom stuff?"

Lillie and Eddie gave each other the look that only siblings can achieve when wondering about the sanity of their parents. Lillie gave Duke an exasperated look. "We thought you'd asked her already."

"I've been a little busy," Duke said, face flaming red.

"Dad," Eddie said, shaking his head. Eddie was a twenty year old clone of his father, his thick dark hair already showing streaks of silver. "Sometimes you think too much. Susan, consider this a family proposal. Please marry our Dad because we'd really like for you to be our mom."

"How about it, Susan?" Duke asked. "Do you remember a while back when I told you I didn't know how to ask and you said yes. Yes to anything I had in mind. Among other things, the one thing I had in mind was spending the rest of my life with you."

"Duke," she said, looking into those dark chocolate eyes. "The answer's still yes."

Lu found herself being crushed in a Lukela family hug.

At that moment Dr. Sessums came in, looking both tired and relieved.

"Mr. McGarrett," she said, crossing the room and taking his hand, "I've got the bleeding stopped and she's stabilized. Dr. Barrett has started surgery and so far everything looks good."

"Why am I hearing a however in all this?" Steve asked.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I got the bleeding stopped. But to do it I had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. When the placenta tore loose from the uterine wall, it took a huge piece of the wall with it. The only way I could stop the bleeding was to remove the uterus."

"I know you did your best, Doctor." Steve said.

"Sometimes your best doesn't seem good enough, Mr. McGarrett. I know she really wanted a child. Now it's never going to happen. I'm sorry."

"She's still alive, doctor," he said, "and to me, that's all that matters."

Dr Sessums got up, sighing. "I've had a long day and tomorrow's going to be here soon enough. There's a storm moving in and when the barometer starts dropping so do the babies. If someone would be so kind as to drive me back to Tripler, I'd like to go home. I'll be in tomorrow to check on her, Mr. McGarrett. She's a tough lady. She's going to be alright."

McGarrett nodded. "Duke, could you get someone from HPD to give the doctor a ride home?"

"Not a problem, Steve. Come with me, doctor. Susan, kids, could you get us some coffee please. Steve looks like he could use some."

"Coming right up," she said. "This way, kids, I saw a coffee shop at the end of the hallway. You can buy your mom a coffee, since I have no idea where my wallet is."

They left, Lillie on one side, Eddie on the other, their arms around their new mom.

 _Sometimes_ , Steve thought, _the good balances out the evil._

"Steve" Danny said.

McGarrett looked up at the sound of his name. Danny, Kono, and Chin were standing at the door of the waiting room.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Aren't you suppose to be processing the crime scene?"

"Everyone's done but the lab," Danny said. "I knew you wouldn't leave so I got you some clean clothes. You can use the shower in the doctor's locker room. It doesn't show that much on black but you've got blood all over you."

"Thanks," he said, standing up. "I guess I do look a mess."

"You don't want to scare Maggie just as she's coming out of anesthesia. You're looking kinda rough."

"Today started at three this morning." he said. "She's going to be in surgery for at least another six hours. I'm not leaving until she's out."

"Come on, Brudah," Danny said. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

"We'll wait here," Chin said. "We'll be here when you get back."

"Yeah, _alaka'i_ ," said Kono. " _Ohana mau loa_."

As Steve followed Danny to locker room he realized that he had a bigger family than he'd ever hoped for. _My Ohana,_ he thought _, they've always been there. I wonder if I'll ever be able to tell them how much I care about them._ Then he realized he wouldn't have to. They already knew.

* * *

Duke found Marks in the hallway by the ER with Kanoa and Franklin, all awaiting news about Compton. "He's going into surgery in a few minutes," Duke said. "There's a waiting room down the hall. Kanoa, please give Dr. Sessums a ride back to Tripler."

"No problem, Sergeant," Kanoa said. "How are the women? The two sergeants? They going to be okay?"

"Susan wasn't hurt and Sgt Alden's in surgery. The doctors are expecting her to make a full recovery. Thank you for asking." Duke said. He handed Franklin McGarrett's gun, sealed and tagged inside a plastic evidence bag. "Franklin, take this to the lab, please." Franklin took the bag and the two officers left.

"The shooting review team is going to be here as soon as they're done at the scene," Marks said. "I already told them what I saw."

"That's all you could tell them, son." Duke said. "Where do they have Big Chicken?"

"He's waiting for surgery. The docs got him stabilized and said he could wait. I think they got sick of listening to Barker bitch and knocked his ass out. The powers that be are gonna want to talk to both of them as soon as possible. Chicken's in trauma room two. He's conscious. According to the docs, he ain't feeling a thing below the waist."

"Thanks, kid. When Ivory comes out, take her to the waiting room." Duke said. He went down the hall to trauma room two. There were two HPD officers standing by the door. "I need to see Mr. Rhodes for a few minutes."

Duke was wearing a black tee shirt and black fatigue pants and boots, badge pinned to his tee shirt, the expression on his face inscrutable. There was something about the look that worried the officer guarding the door.

"The doctor said no visitors," the officer said.

"I need to ask him a few questions," Duke said. "Just in case he dies during surgery."

The officer, a young black man named Wilkes decided he rather piss off a doctor than the man who could have him walking a beat in the worse part of town. "You can have about ten minutes, Sgt Lukela."

"It won't take that long," he said as he entered the room.

Big Chicken was lying on his side draped in a sheet and hooked up to various pieces of medical equipment. Duke walked over to where Chicken could get a good look at him. He wanted Chicken to know who was talking to him, and why.

"You know who I am?" he asked.

Chicken nodded.

"I shot you. I didn't kill you. I could have but I didn't. Do you know why?"

Chicken shook his head.

"That would have been too easy. You have caused nothing but pain to other people since you were old enough to start snatching purses from elderly ladies. You have left a trail of misery wherever you go, from the kids you sold that poison to, to those three little girls we found in the cellar at the mission. All you've ever done is hurt people. Then you made the mistake of threatening my family. I can't allow that. You had Susan and my kids followed. No one threatens my family. No one."

"Your days of hurting people are over. This is the last. You threatened Susan and you hurt Maggie Alden and I don't think you would have stopped there. I think you would have been stupid enough to have gone after my kids and after Beverly Patterson next. So I stopped you. But I didn't kill you because I want you to suffer and to remember every bit of the pain and misery that you've ever caused. Call it karma. Call it payback for the evil you've done. Call it anything you damned well please. It all ends up the same. You're going to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair wearing a diaper and pissing into a bag in a federal prison on the mainland, away from any of your networks and your connections. You're going to be on your own without your hired muscle. You're going to be just another loser con hoping to die in his sleep."

"Evil begins when you treat people like things. That's what you did. You treated people like things to be used and thrown away. Now it's your turn. I hope you have a long and reflective life."

Duke turned and walked out the room. He stopped momentarily to speak with Wilkes. "There are two people who are not allowed near Rhodes under any circumstances. One of them is Steve McGarrett, the other one is me. Got that?"

"Yes, sir," Wilkes said. "Don't let Mr. McGarrett or you near Mr. Rhodes."

"Good," Duke said. "Thank you, Officer Wilkes. Be sure and pass the word along to you relief."

"Will do, sir." Wilkes watched as Duke walked away.

* * *

The storm started around two, with wind and rain and a few flashes of lightening. Mostly it poured rain in sheets.

McGarrett had been sitting staring into space for the last few of hours, causing those who knew him well to worry. Sitting still was never one of his strong points. It was as if all the energy had been drained from him, leaving only an empty shell.

Colonel Dale had gone home. Ivory Thompson was sitting with Compton in recovery, holding his hand and wondering what in the hell her mama was going to do when she brought that white boy home to meet the rest of the family. Duke had sent his kids home, reminding them they had school unless the storm caused a bad weather day. Lu refused to leave. She was curled up next to Duke with her head resting on his shoulder wrapped in a blanket one of the hospital volunteers had brought. Steve had insisted that Chin and Kono go home, since someone had to be at the office the next day. He tried to get Danny to leave, only to be refused. Danny, like Duke, wasn't leaving until he knew that Maggie was out of surgery and was recovering. Neither of them wanted to think about the alternative and what it would do to McGarrett or Susan.

Just after four, Dr. Barrett came in.

"Mr. McGarrett," he said, smiling, "Maggie is out of surgery and in recovery. She's doing well. I'll take you to her if you would like to see her."

Lu sat up. "She's okay?"

"Yes," said Dr. Barrett. "She's doing extremely well. You can see her later on today. Right now I'd suggest you get some rest yourself."

"See," Duke said, "I told you she'd be alright. Now will you go to your room and try to get some rest?"

She smiled and nodded. Duke helped her to her feet and walked with her to the room and to the bed she was suppose to have been resting in that night.

"You ready to see your lady, Mr. McGarrett?" Dr Barrett asked.

"Yes, and thank you."

Dr Barrett showed him to the recovery area where Maggie was resting, still out from the anesthesia and pain killers.

"She probably won't know you're here," the doctor said, "and if she says anything she's not going to make much sense, but she's doing great. Let me show you." He pulled back the covers, and taking a reflex hammer from the pocket of his lab coat, ran the handle down the bottom of Maggie's bare foot. Her toes curled in response. "See, good reflexes. I don't think there's any nerve damage at all. We'll know more once she's fully conscious, but that's going to be a few hours from now. For now we're just going to let her sleep."

"Thank God for that," Steve said.

"That's one tough lady. I'll leave you two alone for now. The nurse will be back in a few minutes to check on her."

"Maggie, sweetie, my little _Menehune_ ," Steve whispered, bending to kiss her. She seemed too pale and too quiet. He pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face, noticing that her hair was still braided and pinned up. He very gently removed the hairpins and uncoiled the braid, pulling her hair down over her shoulder. When the nurse came in to check Maggie's vital signs, he asked for a comb. The nurse brought him one, curious as to why, and went to check on another patient.

Very gently, so as not to disturb her sleep or to pull her hair, he unbraided the long tresses and started combing out the snarls and tangles. When he was done and her hair was once again a smooth silver sheet, he braided it into one long loose braid that fell over one shoulder, securing the end with the hair band he'd removed earlier.

Danny, Duke, and the Governor of Hawaii stood by the door of the recovery room, watching the chief of Five-O comb and braid the hair of the women he was obviously very much in love with.

They left quietly, without letting him know they were there, not wanting to intrude on such a sweet moment.

* * *

*Kalakeke – Hawaiian translation of Gladys.


	17. Chapter 17

Epilogue

Big Chicken was not a happy con. His parole had been revoked and he was facing a raft of federal and state charges guaranteed to have him locked away for good. His lawyer wasn't much help. After seeing the reams of evidence provided by discovery, and by three unnamed witnesses for the prosecution who had turned state's evidence in hopes of lighter sentences, he had suggested that Chicken plead either guilty or no contest and ask for the mercy of the courts. Chicken refused.

He had been released from the hospital into the custody of the federal Marshall's, as fine a bunch of assholes as ever lived. They were not subservient like the guards at Oahu State and it was apparent that they gave absolutely no fucks whatsoever about his comfort or convenience. They had loaded him onto a military transport plane off the Islands to a federal facility in Colorado. Gone were the days when he could put in a request to see his lawyer and have it granted the next day. Gone were the days when he ruled the exercise yard and had a healthy black market in drugs, weapons, and pornography . If one of the guards thought about it they would send a hospital orderly down to help him into his wheelchair sometimes before noon. Most of the time he was left lying on his bunk, semi-helpless. The only time he was allowed out of his cell was for an hour a day for 'exercise' in a fenced off cubicle away from other prisoners and three times a week when he was taken out for a shower and for occasional visits to the doctor and the physical therapist. He was learning how to be helpless.

For the first time in his life, he was having to think.

What bothered the hell out of him was he was discovering he had a conscious.

The doctors had told him he could live another thirty years, still confined to a wheelchair, alone in his cell with only his thoughts for company.

This time he did find god in his cell, only this god was not a happy one. This one had the face of a Polynesian and voice that put you in mind of black velvet and smoky bourbon.

This time, Chicken prayed and hoped that his prayers would be answered.

He prayed to die in his sleep.

* * *

Maggie had recovered, it just took time. Physically she had been fine. Emotionally, she had been a wreck. When the doctor's told her she'd lost the child and would never be able to have another, she had cried for days. Steve was there for her, taking a leave of absence from Five-O until he knew she was recovering.

The trauma to her spine and damage to her back muscles had left her with a slight limp. Her days of running PT were over. Her last year in the Army would be spent on light duty. She didn't seem to mind and as long as she could still write for the _Stars and Stripes_ , she was content.

She had awakened in the recovery room to find Steve holding her hand, his head resting on the bed beside her, sleeping. He hadn't left her side since she came out of surgery.

"Steve," she'd said in a voice softer than a whisper.

He was alert instantly. "My little _Menehune_ , you're finally awake."

"How long has it been?" she asked.

"About two days. Hush, sweetie, you need to rest."

"Everything hurts," she said. "What happened? The last thing I remember was you were kneeling beside me."

"Hush. Tomorrow we'll talk about what happened. Today you rest and get better. I love you."

"I love you, too," she said as she drifted back to sleep.

Four days and buckets of tears later all the bad news had been delivered. She'd sent Steve out to get her a cup of Chai tea. She called Danny as soon as he was out of the room.

"Danny, you've got to get him out of here for a few hours," she said. "I start physical therapy today and he can't be here when I do. I've done this before. I know what's going to happen. It's going to hurt and hurt like hell and there's not going to be a thing he can do about it. He doesn't do helpless very well. Find a reason to get him out of here."

"Easiest request I've had all day," Danny said. "The Governor needs to see him anyway. One AWOL McGarrett coming right up."

True to his word, and hour later Danny appeared and announced the Governor needed to talk to Steve, as soon as possible and was in no mood to take no for an answer. Steve reluctantly kissed Maggie good-bye and went to Capitol Building to meet Jameson, surprised to find Duke and Kono already there.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Don't know, boss," Kono said. "All I know is the Governor said to get here. Duke was here already. Somethin' goin' on. Just don't know what."

Duke's face was as calm and inscrutable as ever. _If that man played poker_ , Steve thought, _he could bluff with no cards and win._

The secretary ushered McGarrett and Williams into the office. Jameson stood up to shake his hand.

"How's Maggie?" he asked.

"Recovering. She'll be back on her feet in no time."

"My wife sends her regards. She thinks highly of Maggie, and for her, that's a rarity. Oh, sure, she puts up with the political wives, but that doesn't mean she likes them. Sit down, please. I've got a few questions for you."

"Fire away," Steve said.

"You know we're going to need a new sheriff to replace Murphy. What's left of the Mayor's staff, the Board of Supervisors, the City Council, and the Planning Commission put together a list of names and submitted them to my office yesterday. After a long meeting we shortlisted the candidates we know are more than capable and who also happen to be Native Islanders."

"About time someone decided to put a Hawaiian in the Sheriff's office. Who'd you draft?"

"The first name on the list turned us down flat. Said the position came with too much politics attached to it and he wasn't a politician."

"Smart man," McGarrett said. "Which one turned you down."

"Duke Lukela, he says he hasn't got the patience to deal with the politicians. Which leads me to the second name on the list. He's one of yours. Kono Kalakaua. That's why I'm asking you before I ask him. He's got more than enough qualifications, he's a Native, and he's young enough to deal with the politics. If he accepts, you're going to be short handed."

"I can't think of a better man for the job. As for being short handed, I already have a man in mind, and I don't think he'll turn me down."

"I suspect you want Lukela on board," Jameson said. "I can understand why. He's a good man. He's got twenty-five years with HPD. He can retire at full pension and join the Five-O team as soon as you get an answer from him." Jameson pressed the intercom button. "Please have Sgt Lukela and Officer Kono come in."

The two men entered the room. Two native Hawaiians, one stocky and dark haired, the other lean, muscular, and silver haired. One quiet and thoughtful, the other a bundle of contradictions, a big dumb looking Kanaka who was smarter than most people gave him credit for being and stronger than an ox. Both were damned good cops. McGarrett had trusted his life to both men more times than he wanted to think about.

Jameson handed a small leather case to Kono. Inside was the Honolulu County Sheriff's badge, the one so recently removed from Augustus Murphy. "It's yours if you want it," he said.

Kono stared at the badge. "Me?"

"Yes," McGarrett said. "You, if you want it."

"In all honesty," Jameson said, "I should tell you that you are my second choice."

"Who was first," Kono asked, wondering.

"I was," Duke said. "Turned him down. I'm too old for politics."

"Couldn't think of a better man to be second to," Kono said. "I get to run the department the right way, which means I'm going to want to get rid of everyone Murphy hired and get people I trust."

"I see Steve has trained you well, Kono. I wouldn't have it any other way. We'll get you sworn in this afternoon and you can start tomorrow. There's a ton of paperwork waiting for you with my secretary. Go sign some papers and make this thing legal." He shook hands with Kono, who left, still clutching the badge and smiling.

"That leaves us short by one detective," Danny said.

"Not for long, I hope," Steve said. "How about it, Duke? Want to work for Five-O?"

"It would be an honor," he said.

"Then I guess it's all settled. Governor, I'm taking a leave of absence until Maggie gets better. Danno's in charge. Chin and Duke can handle everything else. If at all possible, I'd like Sgt Wells from HPD temporarily assigned to Five-O. She's worked with us before and we're going to need her help with the human trafficking ring from the mission on Hotel Street."

"Anything else before your leave officially starts." the governor asked.

"I'm going to be thinking of this as a working vacation. Everything's changing and if we don't keep up, these Islands go back to what they once were, a haven for every criminal and con man who can hop a plane or a ship. We're in the middle of the Pacific. We're a way point for both drug and human smuggling. It's got to stop. I'll have a copy of the details and the numbers for you when I'm back in the office. But the first thing I want is my own hostage rescue team. Duke, that's your job. Make it happen."

"Sure thing, _alaka'i._ _"_ Duke said. He already had a list of potential candidates for the team and for the equipment he wanted. "I'll co-ordinate with Cpt Peterson out at Schofield. I have a feeling he will be more than happy to help out."

"Then it's settled. I'm going back to the hospital. Call me if you need anything, but it'd better be damned important."

The men shook hands as he rose to leave.

"Is he going to be alright," Jameson asked after McGarrett had left.

"I think so," Danny said. "He needs something to occupy his time while Maggie is recovering. Wait until you see the plans he has for Five-O.

"I suspect they are going to be expensive," Jameson said, sighing.

"That's a given," said Duke. He shook hands with the governor and left the office. Time to head down to HPD's personnel department and put in his retirement papers. Between his pension from HPD, his salary and benefits from the state as a member of Five-O, retirement was starting to look better than ever. Now all he had to do was convince Susan she could retire from the army in two years.

He walked out into the Hawaiian sunshine, smiling. His world was indeed a better place.

* * *

December 30, 1996

Susan stood behind Maggie, pinning the plumaria wreath to her hair.

"You look beautiful," she said, fighting back the nausea. At 43, what she though had been early menopause had turned out to be pregnancy. Duke had been ecstatic. She'd been scared, convinced that all the chemo and radiation from the cancer treatment would damage the child. Duke had been the rock she knew he'd be, waiting patiently and going to every appointment for ultrasounds and amniocenteses she had been scheduled for until Dr. Sessums had announced they were going to the the parents of a very healthy baby boy.

"You okay there, Susan?" Maggie asked. It was strange, after all the years she had known her to be calling her Susan instead of Lu. When asked why the sudden preference, she's just smiled and said she'd finally grown up.

"I'll be fine. The little one needs to let mommy keep breakfast down, is all." She had refused any anti-nausea medication.

Beverly, home for the holidays and looking deliriously happy, came in with the bridal bouquet and the flowers she and Susan would carry. She was closely followed by Tilda Kelly, who looked adorable in her flower girl dress.

"The guys are all down at the beach and most of the guests are here already. Sunrise in about fifteen minutes," she said smiling. "Susan, I think Cooper has a crush on Sophie. He's been following her around like a puppy dawg all morning."

John Cooper McGarrett had flown in on the same plane as Beverly and Sophie. He'd spotted the young blonde sitting across the aisle and was instantly attracted. She wasn't as tall as her mother, but had the same firm and generous curves and huge blue gray eyes. He's spent the rest of the flight from LA to Honolulu trying to get to know her. She'd finally admitted that this would be her first time in Hawaii. Her mother was stationed there with the army, she had said, and was getting married New Year's day. She was there to attend not one, but two weddings. The first was her godmother's who was getting married on the beach at sunrise on December thirtieth.

"Let me guess," he said, looking directly into those big blue gray eyes, "your name is Sophie Yablanski, your godmother's name is Maggie, and she's marrying my dad." He held out his hand. "Ensign John Cooper McGarrett at your service, but my friends call me Cooper."

The two of them had been inseparable since their arrival. Duke had already semi-jokingly asked Cooper his intentions toward his soon to be daughter. Susan had a suspicion Sophie's dad would be calling soon, complaining that his only daughter's suitor was Navy, not Army. Steve had just smiled and said to add another win for the Navy.

Beverly checked her watch. "Time to go if you want to make sunrise."

Maggie got up from the dressing table. She was wearing a gown made of ivory silk with long flowing sleeves, an empire waist, and a long skirt that fell into a short train. She wore the opal pendent Steve had got for her in Singapore with the matching earrings. She'd transferred her engagement ring to her right hand, leaving her finger free for the wedding band Steve would put there soon.

Susan snapped several pictures with her ever present camera.

"Hey," Maggie said, "you're suppose to be the bridesmaid not the photographer!"

"Old habits die hard," she said. "Come one, let's go get you married to that handsome devil."

As they walked down the trail to the beach "The Year of the Cat" was playing on the CD player.

Then the Hawaiian music.

Steve stood at the waters edge, smiling, wearing what was for him a rather subdued Aloha shirt and white pants. All the men in the wedding party were dressed the same, agreeing to the matching outfits only after Maggie had re-assured them that she, not Steve, was choosing the shirts. Cooper stood next to his father. He was an inch taller and thinner, but had the same dark chestnut brown hair, high cheekbones, and cleft in his chin.

Governor Jameson, sighting a seldom use state law, was officiating.

Leis were exchanged, then vows and rings. Susan and Cooper then draped the newlyweds in a Hawaiian wedding quilt as Kono and Duke intoned the blessing in flowing Hawaiian.

Steve kissed his bride as the sun was starting to make it's way above the horizon.

The music started. Once more the house at the end of Kalamanu Drive was filled with the sound of people having a good time.

After the toasts and good wishes, and cutting a wedding cake that featured fifty-four candles, Maggie and Steve left for the Marina. They were sailing to Hilo, where on New Years Day, Duke Lukela would marry his Kukana. After the wedding, Steve and Maggie were going to spend the next two weeks just sailing.

After that, well, who knew. It was a new year. Anything could happen.

(Pau)


End file.
